Harry Potter: The second chance
by Lucian Valerious
Summary: After a stray curse during the battle of the DOM upsets the time room and sends Harry and his friends back in time, they find themselves in the company of the Potters and the Marauders in 1975. Stuck in the past, they decide to change the world for the better with the knowledge they have attained from their own world. But will they actually change it for the better?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello there.**

 **Summary: After a stray curse during the battle of the DOM upsets the time room and sends Harry and his friends back in time, they find themselves in the company of the Potters and the Marauders in 1975. Stuck in the past, they decide to change the world for the better with the knowledge they have attained from their own world. But will they actually change it for the better? Or will their changes have consequences worse than they could have foreseen?**

 **I will admit right now, the beginning is inspired by Stepping Back, written by TheBlack'sResurgence, in the sense that Harry travels back in time and at least the Potter family know who he truly is, rather than some alternate identity. In the same sense, I will also draw quite a bit of inspiration (though credit for the original idea rightfully goes to the aforementioned author) for a friendship and alliance between Charlus Potter and Arcturus Black. Hence the reason why I divert from canon on James' parentage: after reading Honour Thy Blood I found it near-impossible to imagine James' father being anything else in my head-canon than the awesome character described there. But since I don't want to divert from established canon too much, I settled for a compromise: Charlus and Fleamont are brothers, and the latter is James' uncle. Speaking of which, thank you** **TheBlack'sResurgence for giving me such an awesome idea. Credit goes to you for that, and I hope that if you find this, you will enjoy this.**

 **Concerning Bashing and Pairings:**

 **mild Dumbledore bashing. He isn't an evil bastard out to control Harry, like in far too many fics on this site. But he's made a lot of mistakes in Harry's fifth year, and due to the fact he isn't here back in time with Harry, our young protagonist won't get the answers he wants from his headmaster. And simply put, this lack of answers is filled in by people far less favourable to Dumbledore, painting him in a far worse light than he deserves.**

 **The only pairing set so far is** **James/Lily. The rest is open for suggestion, though I don't think I'll be sticking with canon pairings aside from them. Why? Simple: Ron and Hermione argue too much to properly work out long-term, Ginny and Harry don't fit together in my opinion even though I don't hate her, the age difference between Remus and Tonks is too big right now to properly work at all (Tonks would be a toddler at most, for god's sake), and I felt pity Sirius never found someone in the end.**

 **But feel free to make suggestions, or give arguments why a canon pairing _would_ work. I still might take it anyway. Hell, make as many suggestions as you want, no matter how absurd they are. Hell, if someone suggested a four-way pairing between Snape, Harry, Luna and McGonagall I still would consider it. The odds aren't high I'd go down that road, but still... You get the idea. I prefer non-slash, though, so if you suggest otherwise your argument had better be strong. Oh, and for the record: the less obvious pairings are open, too, like Amelia Bones, Narcissa, Regulus, Amos Diggory, Either of the Prewett twins and the like.**

 **Rated M so I don't have to watch my language, and because a number of future things I'll do will be quite... horrific.**

 **Underlined is nearly entirely taken from Harry Potter: The Halfblood Prince, and isn't owned by me. On that account, the entire Harry Potter saga and everything it contains isn't owned by me. I'm just fooling around in the sand box.**

 **Please, Review Read and Favourite if you enjoyed it.**

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Chapter 1

 ** _Department of Mysteries, Ministry of Magic Headquarters, London_**

Harry once again cursed his own stupidity, as he and Neville ran through the hall of Prophecies. He should have known this was a trap as soon as he'd entered the Ministry, much less when he entered the Department of Mysteries, without encountering a single soul. The ministry was many things, including idiotic and stupid, but they weren't morons. There should have been a token force of guards to deal with in the atrium at the least. But he'd let his desperation and recklessness guide him and the others on into the department, and he'd foolishly grabbed the glass orb without a single care or thought, and now they were in trouble.

He'd let Lucius prattle and goad on, about how it was all a trap, and that despite Harry's visions to the contrary, Sirius had never set foot in this department, much less been captured and tortured by Voldemort. How it had been a carefully arrayed trap, so he could grab the orb only he and Voldemort could grab, so that they could, in turn, steal it for their Dark Lord. He'd let the man, despite his anger.

It gave them the time they needed so Hermione and the others could get ready to turn the tables on the Death Eaters. He'd had to hold Neville back when Bellatrix blast-her Lestrange insulted the memory of the boy's parents, but they'd managed.

Ginny and Luna had promptly provided said distraction, blasting the two rows they were standing next to and collapsing most of the Prophecies, and half of one cabinet, onto the Death Eaters, while Hermione blasted a hole in the stack for them to escape through in the confusion. The distraction hadn't lasted long, though, and before long they were on the run again, alternating between running back towards the exit and fending off Death Eaters.

They had been forced to split early on, with Ron, Hermione and Ginny forced in one direction at a splitting in one of the stacks, while he, Neville and Luna headed down the others. And Luna had again been forced to run on after Harry and Neville had been forced to stop to fight the Lestrange Brothers, who by themselves were quite vicious. They had served life sentences for a reason, after all, with each of them having killed at least ten Aurors before being captured. In the end, they had to settle for stunning them and taking their wands before being forced to run on or risk the wrath of Antonin Dolohov. And Harry knew he wouldn't survive a duel with that psychopath. The man had been the European duelling champion for England before siding with Voldemort, and was the man's deadliest servant, aside from Bellatrix and Lucius.

Harry skidded to a stop again, as a spell sailed through the stacks to his left. A Crucio, judging by the spell colour and by how easily it tore through the wood. Harry stopped, ready to fling another stunner down the open hole. But to his relief the Death Eater on the other side was already stopped, three stunners hitting him just as he came into view, and Hermione and Ron running past moments later, carrying Ginny between them, who hissed when her ankle bumped over the Death Eater's body.

"Reducto," Harry said, as he sent the spell into the stack ahead of them, and created a hole large enough for Harry and Neville to duck through, and which would allow them to rejoin Hermione and-

"Crucio!" Bellatrix yelled behind them, and Harry dove to the ground. He rolled aside, as he expected another curse to head towards him. But Neville was already duelling her, firing spell after spell at her, trying to keep her from retaliating by the sheer number of spells she had to deflect. But it was obvious from the coy smirk on her face as she moved her wand that she was merely toying with him; humouring her past victim. Harry scrambled to get up, and joined Neville in holding her back.

"Poor wee little Longbottom." Bellatrix taunted. "Even your parents had a plan, as bad as it was. What would they say if they saw you now?"

"I'll kill you, bitch." Neville yelled, as the cursed he threw her way grew more violent. Bellatrix merely laughed, as she simply shifted from shielding against Harry and Neville's spells to dodging.

"Of course, your parents are too mad to even recognise the face of their own SON OF A BITCH!" Bellatrix yelled that last bit, as a stray curse dislodged a prophecy above them, which fell onto her shoulder and shattered, the pieces piercing her shoulder like glass. Harry took a small bit of satisfaction for Neville that it was the woman's wand arm.

Before Bellatrix could stop playing around, however, two stunners sailed past Neville and Harry, and one hit the woman right between the eyes. Her eyes briefly widened from surprise before she closed them and collapsed to the ground. As Neville snatched up the woman's wand, Harry turned and nodded in thanks to Ron and Hermione, who were picking Ginny back up again to carry between them. Now mostly reunited, the group ran back towards the exit. After all, with nearly a dozen Death Eaters in the building, they had little chance of survival otherwise.

Finally the came to the middle path between the stacks that lead to the Time Room, and from there back to the turning room with a dozen identical doors, and back to the lifts. "Ok, we're almost there." He said, starting to run. Neville did likewise, but Hermione and Ron lagged behind, the weight of Ginny slowing them down. After barely ten seconds, Neville had enough, stopped until the latter three had rejoined them, grabbed Ginny and hoisted her over his left shoulder.

"Hey!" She yelled indignantly. "I'm not some sandbag to toss around."

"Just watch my back, ok?" Neville asked, ignoring Ginny's protest as he jogged to catch up. Harry looked at the boy, impressed at the sight. While Ginny certainly wasn't heavy like Millicent Bulstrode, it took a lot of strength and stamina to keep carrying her and running like Neville did. Perhaps there was more to the boy than Harry had previously thought.

His thoughts were interrupted when two more Death Eaters jumped out between the stacks, ready to duel them again. Goyle and Nott, Harry thought they were called back at the graveyard. Or was it Crabbe?

Either way, it didn't matter. Harry immediately sent a bombarda curse to land between them, the concussive force of which made them stumble. And well-placed stunners from Hermione and Ron finished them off. Once again, Harry only stopped to take their wands before moving on. Aside from taking away the Death Eaters' only weapons, you never knew when having another wand could come in handy. A lesson Moody (ok, Barty Crouch Junior) had taken quite some time to drive home to them last year.

The rest of the way went mostly undisturbed. Due to the commotion of collapsing shelves behind them most of the Death Eaters still thought they were further back. They only encountered Mulciber and Jugson when they reached the only way out (through the time room) and both were caught unaware because both were trying to break _into_ the room, rather than standing guard against them. They never heard the incantations of the stunner and body bind that hit them.

"Guys?" Ginny asked nervously from Neville's back. "Where's Luna?"

Harry whirled around. Of course, in the intense duelling and adrenaline-fuelled rush to get out, they'd completely forgotten that Luna was still back there somewhere. He cursed his luck, and moved to run back, and check if Luna was at the heart of the commotion.

When the door to the Time Room opened, and Luna stepped out. Her hair was disheveled and dirtier than usual, she was bleeding quite a bit from a cut on her scalp, her clothes were red from it, and her right sleeve was torn up, but she was alive.

The same could not be said for Avery, who lay on the ground with his head smashed in, a time turner sticking out of his eye. Harry realised instantly the blood on her clothes wasn't all hers.

"Come in, quick." Luna beckoned them in, holding her own wand as well as Avery's in her hand. The others instantly complied, Harry being the last one to enter before Luna closed the door. Once she did, she instantly pulled a lever beside it Harry had missed before, and Harry heard several locks engage around the room, and the lights brightened a bit.

"That kept the others out as well." Luna said. "It also silences whatever happens in the room. We should be safe here, for now."

Neville nodded, and moved to put Ginny down in a chair behind a desk at the back of the room, and she only mildly complained as he did so quite roughly. Everyone else also collapsed against one of the walls. All except Harry, as he started pacing around the room, pulling at his hair. How had it all gone so wrong? He was so sure Sirius was here. Hell, even Kreacher said Sirius was gone, and the blasted House Elf hated them with a passion for being blood traitors, mud bloods or disgraces to the house of Black, upon remembering Harry's grandmother was a Black and so were Ron and Ginny's grandparents or great grandparents. He didn't recall how far back it went exactly.

"What now?" Hermione asked, as she slowly got up and walked over to Ginny. As soon as she reached the girl, she got her wand out and started casting spells, trying to do something for the injured leg.

"We can't stay here." Neville stated, his usual slight stutter from nerves briefly gone in the adrenaline rush. "Sooner or later they're going to realise we aren't in the Hall of Prophecies, and figure out we left that hall. They'll head off to block the exit, and if they find those Death Eaters outside, they're going to start banging down the door."

"And we're fish in a barrel in here." Ron said. "Where would we all take cover? Behind the desk that can barely fit us all?"

"I'm thinking." Harry finally snapped, silencing them all. "I'm thinking, alright?" Before he could come up with anything to add, he hear a dreaded loud call outside the room.

"They're here!" Augustus Rookwood called. "Mulciber and Jugson are stunned outside the Time Room. And it's still locked."

"We're on our way." Lucius Malfoy called back. "Macnair found the Lestrange Brothers, and Dolohov got Bellatrix back to her feet. We'll surround them, break open the chamber, kill them all-"

"And spare the boy, and take him and the Prophecy to the Dark Lord, we know." Macnair said irritably. And to Harry's dread, his voice came from the other side of the only other door out of the room.

Harry's blood stopped for a few moments, and the others, including Ginny, all got to their feet. This was it. The Time Room had only two exits, and it sounded like both of them were surrounded by at least two Death Eaters. And as tired and beaten as they were they wouldn't stand a chance. Harry hurriedly glanced around for a door he'd missed, a ventilation duct he'd overlooked, hell a damn tube for the owls or flying envelopes for all he knew. Anything that would allow him to get him and his friends out of this. But aside from the two doors the room was hermetically sealed tight.

A blast echoed behind him, and he and the others all turned to look. Macnair and Rookwood stood there, the door blasted to pieces before them. Behind them, Harry could see Lucius and Bellatrix approaching as well, with Dolohov in tow. The Lestrange brothers approached as well, but they branched off, likely to cover the other, still locked down exit.

Macnair snarled. "Die, you bloody brats." He called, sending a purple curse their way. Harry easily dodged by leaning to the side, and he could see the only other person in its path, Luna, also had similarly no problems in evading the curse.

"No!" Rookwood said, to everyone's surprise, as he pushed Macnair's wand down. "If you hit the..."

Too late, Harry saw where the curse was headed, and he saw it impact the bell jar he'd observed earlier. And it, in turn, collapsed and broke against a large, open cabinet full of Time Turners. Rookwood visibly paled, and Harry knew something was terribly wrong. Rookwood had been a spy for Voldemort in this particular department, so he knew most (if not all) of what was going on here. And if he thought Macnair had screwed up badly...

"BACK UP!" Rookwood yelled, as he dragged an angry Macnair away, and lifted the pieces of the door back up. To Harry's concern, most of the Time Turners shattered, and the sand inside them started to float upwards, mixing with the mysterious contents of the bell jar.

"But what of the Prophecy?" Lucius demanded, his tone somewhere between anger and shock at Rookwood defying his orders. "If we return without the Prophecy, the Dark Lord will-"

"We'll come back for it later, Malfoy!" Rookwood yelled back, as Harry saw him desperately cast multiple reparo charms in an attempt to repair the hermetic seal on the door. "If that sand reaches us we'll die anyway, and I can assure you such a death is ten times worse than anything the Dark Lord can do to us."

Harry saw the other Death Eaters visibly blanch alongside Rookwood, and Harry couldn't blame them. He'd seen and heard what Voldemort could do to people he was truly mad at. He'd tried to choke the life out of Harry in first year, tried to set a Basilisk on him and the Muggleborns through a possessed diary in second year, and had one of his subordinates rig an international tournament known to kill its contestants just so he could get at Harry last year. No, Harry knew Voldemort was capable of anything when he was angry.

"We need to get out." He said, turning to the others. But he needn't have bothered. Hermione and Luna were already casting various spells at the remaining door, trying to get it open, while Ron tried to raise the lever again, without success. Ginny, meanwhile, was ripping the various clocks off the wall, trying to find a way out they'd missed. The sand, meanwhile, was now swirling around them in clusters. And it was picking up speed.

"Step aside." Harry said, and he shouldered himself between Hermione and Luna, raising his own wand and the one he'd grabbed off of Nott.

"Bombarda Maxima!" He called out, doing the wand movement with both wands, and casting them both simultaneously at the door. He was mildly surprised at his success, as he'd never even tried simultaneous casting before. But his surprise was short-lived, as both spells impacted against the door, but with little success. In fact, the only indicator he'd attacked the door at all was the scorch mark and slight indentation that now marked the door.

"Harry, that-" Hermione tried to warn him, but he never managed to hear the rest of her sentence. The swirling cloud of sand finally passed over them, and the next moment his scar erupted in such an intense pain he'd never felt before, and he passed out.

* * *

 ** _Potter Manor, Near English East Coast._**

As the Sun slowly set on the Potter property, James hurried down the stairs, Sirius hot on his heels. His father's birthday was yesterday (And James swore he'd never been to a more boring event. As much as he loved his father, nearly all of his friends and associates are at least trice, sometimes even four times his age, and uncle Fleaumont could be so annoying sometimes), and he had promised Remus and Peter could come over today. A good thing too: the Full Moon was yesterday, and Moony would be at the very least tired as hell. And he'd just seen the boys outside, apparated to the edge of the property by Remus' father.

James skidded to a stop just in front of the door, and actually bumped into it when Sirius collided with him. Both boys went down in a tumble, and James glared at Sirius as he pushed his 'brother' off of him. "What did I tell you about breaking, Padfoot?"

"To break stuff as often as possible?" Sirius offered with a grin, as he got to his feet.

"No. To not run into me at full speed." James said. "Next time I'll tell Dorea."

"You wouldn't!" Sirius accused in mock-terror. "You aren't becoming a snitch, are you Prongs?"

"I certainly didn't do it. And I won't have mum accuse me of doing it." James slowly let a smile edge over his face, opening the door for Remus and Peter. The former stood there with his fist slightly raised, apparently having been a few inches from knocking before James opened the door.

"Moony, Wormie." Sirius greeted enthusiastically. "Come on in. Chop chop, plans to make, mayhem to cause. We need to ensure a chaotic year at Hogwarts."

"We don't need to plan for that." Peter returned with his own smile. "All we need to do is set you loose on the castle. It'll deliver enough chaos to make Filch lose his remaining few hairs."

"As well as his job," James noted. "If we let Padfoot loose the castle is destroyed in a week."

"Hey!" Sirius cried indignantly, but he was ignored by the others.

"You give him too much credit." Remus dismissed with a wave of his hand. "I say a month."

"I've got ten galleons that say it'll be two weeks." Peter smirked, tossing a sack containing said galleons up in the air before catching it again.

"Deal," James said, and Remus was quick to agree.

"That's not true." Sirius protested. "I would never destroy the castle that fast"

Instantly, all three boys turned to Sirius in amusement.

"Oh, really?" Remus questioned. "How about the time you blew up half the dungeons and our entire potions class because you thought mixing muggle fireworks, a timed Confringo curse, and dung bombs into an Exploding Potion was a good idea?"

"Well, about that-"

"Or the time half the castle was flooded because you kept provoking Moaning Myrtle, and she busted all the toilets in retaliation?" Peter snickered. "Even Dumbledore took a week to get the smell of dung out of his office. And that's _with_ the help of his Phoenix and Flitwick."

"Hey, that wasn't-"

"Or the time you tried to set loose all of the rabbits and squirrels from the Forbidden Forest into the Great Hall and charmed them to look like Acromantula?" James suggested, a full-blown smirk on his face when remembering that particular one. "As I recall, one of the students panicked enough that he called his Auror mother through the Floo, and we had the full Auror division here in less than an hour."

"Hey, you guys all helped with that." Sirius protested.

"True." Remus conceded. "But as you can see, we have a full list of times you nearly ruined the entire castle. Want us to go on?"

Sirius sighed dramatically, throwing his head back in exasperation. "Alright. Maybe I have a slight tendency to let things get a little bit out of control, but-"

"A little bit?" Peter questioned.

"Maybe?" Remus raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Slight?" James smirked.

"Shut up, you tossers," Sirius yelled at them, making all four of them laugh.

It was a fun day whenever the four Marauders managed to reunite. Before long dinner came around, and aside from the four children and James' parents Charlus and Dorea, his uncle and aunt, Fleamont and Euphemia came along for dinner as well. Fleamont and his wife lived overseas in the United States, running Sleekeazy company, his own business specialised (ironically, considering James' untameable hair) in creating a potion allowing people to tame their messy hair. It was noted in the family, though, that James was the only case where the potion had failed thus far, and it was a hobby of Fleamont to test it on James whenever he was visiting his English relatives.

James smiled, as he stared down the table. This was his family, he noted in content from his corner of the long dinner table. Sirius, trading barbs with _his_ great aunt (and James' mother) Dorea, with Charlus looking on in amusement. Remus and Fleamont, talking about the new Wolfsbane potion that would come out next year, that would allow Remus to keep his mind during his transformations. And last but most certainly not least, Peter and Aunt Euphemia, the latter asking about the grades and home life of the former. Yes, this was the kind of life and family he wanted to have. Well, of course, Lily was missing from that picture, as well as her parents and sister. But there would be more than enough time for that later. After all, he still had three years of Hogwarts to go, and he promised himself he would be more driven than ever.

A loud crack disrupted him from his thoughts, followed closely by another. And another. Then three more. After that, there were numerous more softer cracks outside, and James frowned in concern. The property was warded against Apparation and Portkey usage, so there should be no way for anyone to get here without them knowing. Hence why his concern only grew when Charlus, Fleamont and Dorea got up with wands in hand, and slowly walked to the door. James stood up an grabbed his wand as well, but a single look from his mother stopped him from following. Everyone else now also had their wands out as well, although like him none moved to get out of the Dining room.

Dorea and Fleamont took place at one side of the door, while Charlus took another, ready to kick it open and look who the intruders were. James wasn't too concerned: Before retiring to take up the Potion business and head of House matters respectively, both Fleamont and Charlus had spent over ten years in the Auror department, and had fought alongside heroes like Arcturus Black, Hyperion Greengrass, Hector Longbottom and the twins Deckard and Seraphina Bones in the war against Grindelwald. And Dorea, although a healer by nature, was a Black, and knew her fair share of dark and violent curses. She could handle herself in a dangerous situation fairly well.

After a count of three, Charlus kicked down the door, and he, Dorea and Fleamont rushed into the living room, expecting to have to fight for their lives. They were met, however, by a sight they would never have expected to see.

Six people were strewn throughout the room, laying in various positions. Well, kids really. James could see, even from here, that they were barely his own age. One of the kids, a blond, chubby kid, was hanging from the chandelier by his sweater. Two more, a red-headed boy, and his sister, lay against a cabinet with Dorea's china, the boy stirring and rubbing his head. A bushy haired girl lay strewn across the floor, a dirty-haired blond with a lot of blood on her clothes on top of her.

But it was the last kid that drew everyone's attention. He was messy-haired of a raven-like colour, scrawny, and had emerald eyes. The last they could see because they were fluttering. James felt like he was staring at his bloody twin, and only Peter closing it told James he had dropped his jaw in shock at the sight.

But that wasn't what drew their attention. No, it was the dark cloud of magic erupting from the boy's forehead, and him contorting in pain along with it, that had their focus. He grunted in pain, as the dark cloud streamed from his head just above his eyes, and the cloud screamed in agony with it.

"What the hell?" Fleamont muttered, at the sight, before he cast a protective shield around the kid. Intruding or not, he resembled James an awful lot, and they still needed answers on how he broke the wards. Not to mention that dark magic cloud could be dangerous to the other kids, not to mention their own family.

"Harry!" Someone called in concern, and James turned to see the bushy-haired girl get up and run to him, only to run head on into the shield, being pushed back on her arse. This alerted the other children, and one by one those that could get up did, and headed for the dark-haired boy.

"Who are you?" Charlus asked, raising his wand at them.

"Who are _we_?" the red-haired boy asked indignantly, turning to the three Potters. "Who are _you_?"

Charlus frowned, as he and his younger brother shared a glance. While he was by no means world famous, he wasn't that unknown. And the Potter family was quite recognisable in that regard. The fact Fleamont, Charlus and James shared the same messy hair and glasses was proof of that. "Charlus Potter. Head of House Potter." he answered.

"The Auror?" the chubby guy asked, still hanging from the chandelier. "I thought he had been dead for over twenty years."

"Very funny, kid," Fleamont said, raising his own wand at the children. "But I think I would know if my own brother was dead."

The children that were awake and coherent shared a very concerned glance, and James frowned. What the hell had these kids so worried? In the end, the Bushy-haired girl stepped forward. "Sirs, Madam, this might seem like a very odd question. But what is the date?"

James frowned, but he answered for his parents and uncle. "Nineteenth of July, 1975."

The kids all looked at him with widened eyes, and the bushy-haired girl started shaking. The only ones unaffected by the answer, in fact, were the boy with dark magic still streaming out of his forehead, though the cloud coming out had thinned considerably as it mostly now hung above him, and the dirty blonde, who had a dreamy expression throughout the exchange, which was only broken periodically when she glanced at the dark-haired boy.

"Why?" Fleamont asked, but before he could answer there was a loud boom. The red-haired girl's eyes immediately widened in concern. "Hermione, did the sand escape the room? Did we manage to seal it in?"

"No, the door remained open. Why?" Her brother answered. His sister, in response, merely shook her head, before narrowing her eyes in determination. She turned to the three elder Potters.

"We'll answer your questions later, Sirs." Fleamont opened his mouth to protest, but the James observed the girl just continued on, without regard for his uncle at all. "But mere moments before we were brought here, we were busy fighting and trying to escape from Death Eaters."

That shut Fleamont up, and Charlus immediately focused on the task at hand. If whatever the kids did happened while they were being pursued, it wasn't a leap to imagine the Death Eaters following them. "How many?"

"A dozen." the Blond girl answered. "We didn't stop to count, but we heard orders being given to eleven names, and there was a twelfth leading them. We stole the wands of half of them, though."

Charlus nodded and turned to the other Potters and the Dining room. "Euphemia, get the boys and the other children to the shelter under the cellar. Keep it locked until either I or Fleamont tell you it's safe." Euphemia nodded, and led James and the others to the Cellar. The last he heard of his father before that was him instructing to cover the rear entrance to the gardens, while he and Fleamont would take the front. He headed in first, and snapped on the torches with a brief wave of his wand, illuminating the spacious cellar often used as a practice arena. He and Sirius lifted one of the training matts off the ground, revealing a door with a ring worked inside an indentation so the top of the ring was level with the floor. Remus lifted it up, and held it up as he stepped inside first. The others soon followed, and James jumped in shortly after Peter, with Sirius and Euphemia bringing up the rear. It was only after the door closed again that Harry noted that none of the new arrivals had followed them in.

* * *

 _ **Unknown**_

Harry groaned as he opened his eyes. _Bloody hell, that hurt!_

What the heck had happened? He'd been fighting in the Department of Mysteries, then he'd hidden with the others in the Time Room to protect the-

The Prophecy!

He quickly patted his jacket pocket and sighed in relief when he still felt the bulbous shape of the glass orb. Good, he still had it. It would have been an absolute waste of time if he'd lost or broken it when the Time Chamber had exploded. But now, he was in the darkness.

No, not exact darkness. He saw shapes begin to form. As he concentrated, he saw he was in a large room, and he was surprised to realise it was one of the old Potions classrooms, one connected to an old office. He knew because it was on the map, and he'd caught the twins in there a few times making some of their products for Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. But instead of the multiple desks with cauldrons and potions equipment, he saw a table with multiple people sitting behind it let by a short, rather rotund man with a walrus-like mustache. He was talking animatedly with the various people sitting at the other chairs, including a man with long blond hair that might be related to Malfoy.

But then Harry recognized someone else, and his heart stopped. Impossible. He was nowhere near here or at the very least recognizable misshapen serpentine monster. Yet he still stood before him in a way that shouldn't be possible.

The sixteen-year-old Thomas Marvolo Riddle Junior. Or Lord Voldemort, as the man himself preferred nowadays.

Harry was startled the very next moment, as he started to hear sounds, and he realised he could listen in on the conversations. Part of him didn't want to. He preferred to never hear that voice again, that deceptively smooth voice. That voice that had forced Ginny to unleash a Basilisk, to kill various roosters, and to write in their blood on the walls. But he had no choice. He might learn something new. Something vital. Something that could help him learn what Voldemort was after. Besides, Harry had no choice anyway. He couldn't move a single inch, and was forced to observe the events before him. With reluctance, he forced himself to pay attention.

"-true that Professor Merrythought is retiring?"

"Tom, Tom, if I knew I couldn't tell you," said the rotund man with the mustache, obviously a professor, wagging his finger reprovingly at Riddle, though winking at the same time. "I must say, I'd like to know where you get your information, boy, more knowledgeable than half the staff, you are."

Riddle smiled; the other boys laughed and cast him admiring looks.

"What with your uncanny ability to know things you shouldn't, and your careful flattery of the people who matter – thank you for the pineapple, by the way, you're quite right, it is my favourite –"

Several of the boys tittered again.

"– I confidently expect you to rise to Minister of Magic within twenty years. Fifteen, if you keep sending me pineapple, I have excellent contacts at the Ministry."

Tom Riddle merely smiled as the others laughed again. Harry noticed that he was by no means the eldest of the group of boys, but that they all seemed to look to him as their leader.

"I don't know that politics would suit me, sir," he said when the laughter had died away. "I don't have the right kind of background, for one thing."

A couple of the boys around him smirked at each other. Harry was sure they were enjoying a private joke, undoubtedly about what they knew, or suspected, regarding their gang leader's famous ancestor.

"Nonsense," said the professor briskly, "couldn't be plainer you come from decent wizarding stock, abilities like yours. No, you'll go far, Tom, I've never been wrong about a student yet."

The small golden clock standing upon the professor's desk chimed eleven o'clock behind him and he looked around.

"Good gracious, is it that time already? You'd better get going boys, or we'll all be in trouble. Lestrange, I want your essay sent in by tomorrow or it's detention. Same goes for you, Avery."

One by one, the boys filed out of the room. The Professor heaved himself out of his armchair and carried his empty glass over to his desk. A movement behind him made him look around; Riddle was still standing there.

"Look sharp, Tom, you don't want to be caught out of bed out of hours, and you a prefect..."

"Sir, I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away, then, m'boy, ask away..."

"Sir, I wondered what you know about... about Horcruxes?"

The Professor stared at him, his thick ringers absentmindedly clawing the stem of his wine glass.

"Project for Defense Against the Dark Arts, is it?"

But Harry could tell that the Professor knew perfectly well that this was not schoolwork.

"Not exactly, sir," said Riddle. "I came across the term while reading and I didn't fully understand it."

"No... well... you'd be hard-pushed to find a book at Hogwarts that'll give you details on Horcruxes, Tom, that's very Dark stuff, very Dark indeed," said the Professor.

"But you obviously know all about them, sir? I mean, a wizard like you – sorry, I mean, if you can't tell me, obviously – I just knew if anyone could tell me, you could – so I just thought I'd ask –"

It was very well done, thought Harry, the hesitancy, the casual tone, the careful flattery, none of it overdone. He, Harry, had had too much experience of trying to wheedle information out of reluctant people not to recognize a master at work. He could tell that Riddle wanted the information very, very much; perhaps had been working toward this moment for weeks.

"Well," said the Professor, not looking at Riddle, but fiddling with the ribbon on top of his box of crystallized pineapple, "well, it can't hurt to give you an overview, of course. Just so that you understand the term. A Horcrux is the word used for an object in which a person has concealed part of their soul.'

"I don't quite understand how that works, though, sir," said Riddle.

His voice was carefully controlled, but Harry could sense his excitement.

"Well, you split your soul, you see," said the man, "and hide part of it in an object outside the body. Then, even if one's body is attacked or destroyed, one cannot die, for part of the soul remains earthbound and undamaged. But of course, existence in such a form..."

The man's face crumpled and Harry found himself remembering words he had heard a year before: "I was ripped from my body, I was less than spirit, less than the meanest ghost... but still, I was alive."

"... few would want it, Tom, very few. Death would be preferable."

But Riddle's hunger was now apparent; his expression was greedy, he could no longer hide his longing.

"How do you split your soul?"

"Well," said the professor uncomfortably, "you must understand that the soul is supposed to remain intact and whole. Splitting it is an act of violation, it is against nature."

"But how do you do it?"

"By an act of evil – the supreme act of evil. By committing murder. Killing rips the soul apart. The wizard intent upon creating a Horcrux would use the damage to his advantage: he would encase the torn portion –"

"Encase? But how – ?"

"There is a spell, do not ask me, I don't know!" said the professor shaking his head like an old elephant bothered by mosquitoes. "Do I look as though I have tried it – do I look like a killer?"

"No, sir, of course not," said Riddle quickly. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to offend..."

"Not at all, not at all, not offended," said the Professor gruffly, "It is natural to feel some curiosity about these things... wizards of a certain calibre have always been drawn to that aspect of magic..."

"Yes, sir," said Riddle. "What I don't understand, though – just out of curiosity. I mean, would one Horcrux be much use? Can you only split your soul once? Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven – ?"

"Merlin's beard, Tom!" yelped the rotund man. "Seven! Isn't it bad enough to think of killing one person? And in any case... bad enough to divide the soul... but to rip it into seven pieces..."

The Professor looked deeply troubled now: he was gazing at Riddle as though he had never seen him plainly before, and Harry could tell that he was regretting entering into the conversation at all.

"Of course," he muttered, "this is all hypothetical, what we're discussing, isn't it? All academic..."

"Yes, sir, of course," said Riddle quickly.

"But all the same, Tom... keep it quiet, what I've told – that's to say, what we've discussed. People wouldn't like to think we've been chatting about Horcruxes. It's a banned subject at Hogwarts, you know... Dumbledore's particularly fierce about it..."

"I won't say a word, sir," said Riddle, and he left, but not before Harry had glimpsed his face, which was full of that same wild happiness it had worn when he had first found out that he was a wizard, the sort of happiness that did not enhance his handsome features, but made them, somehow, less human...

"Harry!" A voice pierced the image, as it dissolved. A very familiar voice, that managed to change the scenery. And rather than standing in the old classroom, he was laying on a table in a rather lavish living room, a dark cloud above his head that was dissipating faster by the second.

"Hermione?" He grunted as he got up. "What's happened?"

The answer, however, became very clear, as a window behind him shattered and a spell sailed through, over his head. "We've traveled back in time, Harry," Hermione said urgently, trying to drag him to his feet. "And we brought the Death Eaters with us."

That did it for Harry. Shaking off the memory for later contemplation, he shot to his feet, his wand immediately in hand as well as the one belonging to Crabbe. He thrust that one in Hermione's now free hand, and grabbed Nott's wand for his own. He moved to the nearby window where the spell had sailed through and saw that the Death Eaters had surrounded the house they were in. And that they were scattered and weakened. He saw two try to run away, only to run into the house's wards. And very powerful wards, too, as the two disintegrated upon touching them and the wards briefly lit up in a light blue hue before becoming transparent again.

"Fools!" he heard Lucius Malfoy yell angrily. "We can't leave this place until we destroy the wardstone. Get inside and find it!"

It was answered by several affirmatives, and a mad cackle of glee from Bellatrix, who had somehow managed to get her hands on a wand. He immediately saw four people get up from cover across the property, and head towards the house at a run. From somewhere to his left a dangerous purple ad yellow coloured curse sailed towards one of the Death Eaters, and he died in agony as his body literally was eaten away at by acid, before succumbing to his injuries. The other three, however, managed to reach the manor before the residents could kill or otherwise stop them. One entered by jumping through the window right next to Harry, and he recognised him as Mulciber. Harry instinctively sent a Piercing Hex Neville had taught him from his family Grimoire at the Death Eater's face. He was instantly awarded success, as the curse hit the man straight in the eye, and the man clutched at the now-empty eye socket that seeped a lot of blood. Harry stunned him, and sent a cutting curse at the wand hand for good measure, severing a pair of fingers and leaving the man disarmed _again_.

Hermione was equally successful, as she was keeping Nott backed into a corner while Harry finished his own opponent off. Harry sent a stunner at the man, which he deflected back at Hermione, who shielded herself against it. But Nott was in trouble now. He was duelling two people at the same time, backed into a corner, and during the chase through the Hall of Prophecies, he'd noted the man relied more on reputation and name, rather than actual skill. His wandwork was sloppy and unrefined. It wasn't long before the man failed to defend himself against Hermione's disarmer, and his spare wand went sailing across the room. Harry grabbed a number of pieces of broken glass and sent them at the man, and a large one pinned itself into the man's shoulder, paralysing him in pain. A Body-Bind from Hermione kept him in the corner where they could get back to him later.

Harry turned and ran, sprinting to help the one who had taken down one of the previous Death Eaters outside earlier in the fight. He ran into a room, where a man was surprisingly holding his own against Rookwood, Dolohov, and Malfoy. Ginny was fighting beside the man, shielding herself and the man so he could focus on attacking his opponents.

Harry sent a curse to distract Rookwood, which worked as the man diverted his attention from the man and to Harry. This, in turn, allowed the man to focus on Dolohov while Ginny, with the assistance of Hermione, kept Lucius Malfoy occupied. Rookwood sent a Cruciatus at Harry, who rolled to the side. He got up and tried to once again send a disarmer at the senior man, but Rookwood batted it aside and sent a blood boiling curse at him. Harry hurriedly raised his own shield at that one, and send a trio at stunners at him. The man deflected the first two away, and side stepped the third.

And Dolohov was thrown into the man by a powerful banishing charm, and both collapsed onto the ground. Before Harry could react, the man beside him conjured a large, thick, long Javelin, and banished it at both men before they could get up. It pierced the centre of both their chests, pinning both men to the ground. For good measure, the man conjured a large swarm of insects, which he set on the men's wands. Harry watched in mild horror as the wands were being eaten whole in seconds in front of his very eyes. Termites, Harry realised the insects were called. Harry stared at the man for a few moments. Conjuration was one of the more difficult branches of magic, especially to do it as fast as this man did. And he didn't seem even close to exhausted, contrary to how Harry often felt after his attempts at Conjuration. The man must be quite powerful to do it multiple times.

Meanwhile, he noticed Ginny and Hermione had Lucius down on the ground, clutching his right hand while Ginny stomped on his wand, snapping it in two.

"This is for my first year, you bastard," Ginny growled as she kicked him in the face, knocking him out. She then proceeded to try and kick and beat the sense out of him, only stopping when Hermione tried to pull her back. And even then, Harry noticed she wasn't done, continuing to curse him with some of the more violent curses he had taught in the DA. He briefly looked away when she finally used a Reducto on him, which ripped his chest open.

While Harry wasn't happy she had killed the man (the only person whose death he'd be glad for was Voldemort), he couldn't blame her. The man had sneaked a cursed diary into her school supplies, which had had an entire year to slowly link her mind to the previous owner, Voldemort himself. The diary had made her do terrible things, including the slaughtering of the school's roosters, the petrification of multiple Muggle-borns, and unleashing a Basilisk onto the school grounds. All because Malfoy wanted to destroy her family's reputation forever. No, the man deserved everything she did to him.

But that didn't mean he had to like seeing people die.

The man shook his shoulder for a bit, bringing Harry back out of his thoughts, and he turned around.

"You okay, kid?" the man asked, concerned. Harry nodded. While he didn't feel alright with all the destruction that was going on around them, there would be time for that later. These people needed his help. He owed it to them for leading the Death Eaters here in the first place, if nothing else.

"Then let's go." the man responded, beckoning the girls and Harry to follow him. "My wife and some of your friends need help in the dining room. This way." the man ran out of the room, and Harry followed close behind, Ginny and Hermione on his heels.

They arrived in the Dining room in short order, where a fierce-looking woman, in her late thirties or early forties, if he had to guess, was dueling the married couple Bellatrix and Rudolphus Lestrange, while Rabastan was slowly driving Neville into a corner. Ron lay in another corner, unconscious with part of a large table collapsed both on top of and beneath him.

Not hesitating for a moment, Harry flung an expelliarmus at the man, drawing his attention away from Neville, which succeeded even if the man shielded himself from the spell. Rabastan tried to curse Harry with a Cruciatus, but Harry was pushed to the side by Neville, who dodged it by mere inches himself. Rabastan tried, once again, to curse Harry with that curse, but the man that had dealt with Rookwood and Dolohov had returned and flung his wand faster at the man than Harry could keep track, and it almost seemed as if the man was casting one continuous long spell, instead of dozens of curses closely behind one another.

Rabastan, surprised by the apparent skill of the man, didn't last long. A spell broke through a hastily erected shield, hitting the man in the head. Said head immediately grew to quite a large size, almost the size of a beach ball, and for a moment, Harry thought it might explode. But instead, the man suddenly fell forward, as his head grew in weight as well as in size. Before the Death Eater could undo the spell, Neville stalked over, rolled him over so the man could look him in the eye. Before Rabastan could cast any hex or curse at Neville at all, Neville cast his Piercing Hex at the man's heart, and a fist-sized hole appeared in the man's chest. Rabastan's eyes widened in shock before the man's chest stopped heaving and his body slumped.

Harry took a quick look around, ensuring everyone else was alright. Ron, now conscious, had been dragged from underneath the pieces of the table and was being fussed over by Ginny and Hermione. The man was now fighting a bloodied and panicked-looking Rudolphus, while the woman and Bellatrix were engaged in a fierce duel. And Bellatrix was clearly losing, despite the fact she was working quite fast and casting curses at a frighteningly similar pace as the man. But the woman was casting very powerful curses that Bellatrix always tried to dodge frantically, and the woman rarely gave Bellatrix enough time to recover and cast a powerful curse on her own. The Torturer of the Longbottom family always cast merely hurried cutting and bludgeoning curses on instinct, rather than attacking with really powerful and dark curses. She even tried a Cruciatus, but the woman conjured a brick wall in between them and banished the resulting debris at her, further injuring the Death Eater.

The death stroke came when Bellatrix finally failed to dodge a curse, and she froze up, turning into an ice statue of herself. The woman finished her off with a powerful Reducto, which shattered the statue into fist-sized chunks. Rudolphus was also quickly beaten, when the man flung the man into the ceiling, before bringing him crashing to the ground and having a Chandelier above them crash onto the man. Even if he survived, that fall and the chandelier were sure to break a few bones and knock him out. In any event, the man didn't move after that and was definitely out of the fight.

The room calmed, as everyone looked around. After a few moments, the man and woman visibly relaxed. "That's all of them." he finally said.

"I got this bugger." a new voice said, and Harry turned around. Another man, similar to the first, stood in the doorway, Luna standing behind him. He was dragging the body of Walden Macnair with him, dropping it on top of the body of Rabastan. "Nasty bugger was tough to beat. Kept getting out shrunken beasts and restoring them to size."

"The Foyer's not exactly safe to travel through right now," Luna said, in her usual dreamy and distant voice. "The rubble from fighting that angry Griffin is strewn everywhere."

Harry nodded, as he checked Rudolphus for a pulse. He found none, which he had mixed feelings about. He would never be glad for a man's death, except maybe Voldemort's, and he didn't like taking a life. But at the same time, he knew the world would be better off without the man, especially with what he had done to Neville's parents.

"We have two incapacitated in the Living Room," Hermione told them. "And three of them in a sitting room."

"They're dead." the first man clarified. "One of them got a Reducto to the chest and the other two a Javelin through their lungs. They either bled to death or choked on their own blood."

"With these three, on top of the two morons that ran into the wards, that makes eleven." The woman finished. "There should be just one more."

"There was." The second man answered sadly. "He was already nearly dead when he arrived. Mortally wounded before... whatever you guys did." he gestured to Harry and the others, all stood roughly on the same side of the room. "Got him with an acid spell, and he's gone too."

"What we did?" Harry asked, confused.

"Harry." Hermione started. "Remember what I said when you woke up after..." She trailed off briefly, rethinking about her answer. "We've traveled back in time. To the nineteenth of July 1975."

Harry whirled to look at her, shocked by the revelation. "What?"

It couldn't be. They couldn't have traveled back that far. That's impossible to accomplish, even by the Unspeakables. True, it was Hermione who had said it, and she wasn't omniscient. And during the fight, things _had_ gone really bad in the time room. But to travel back that far?

Far enough back that he could potentially meet his parents?

"That's not the only thing, Harry," Neville said to him, and Harry turned back to Neville, who looked quite shaken. "If I'm right, this is _Potter_ Manor." He pointed behind Harry, to the first man Harry had met here. "And that's Charlus Potter."

Harry turned to look at both men, as well as the woman. If what Neville was saying was true, then he was looking at people who could potentially be his grandparents. Was that true? He had to admit, they did resemble a number of people in the photos he had seen in the photo album Hagrid had given him. But he had never been able to learn their names. Sirius and Remus, the only people still alive who knew and he knew well enough to ask, had only spoken of their past with his dad and mum, and only mentioned Harry's family (at least on his father's side) had perished because of the Death Eaters and that he was the last Potter left.

Wait, if his grandparents were here, and were still alive, did that mean his father was here, too?

"I'll get the others." the second man said, and he walked out of the room. While Harry tried to get his thoughts and emotions and the excitement at the opportunity of meeting his parents under control, he vaguely heard the man call in a lighter tone: "It's Ok. People are dead."

After another minute, a second group joined them, and his heart stopped. While he didn't recognize the older woman with the group, he recognized the rest of them.

After all, after having encountered them while a bit older, it was quite hard to forget the faces of Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black. And everyone had been right. He was a carbon copy of his father in the term of looks.

His father noticed that, too.

"Bloody hell," James muttered, before turning to his father. "Is there something you need to tell me? A hidden twin I never knew about."

"Doubt it," Sirius muttered. "No one would want to share your ugly face."

"HEY!" James and Harry both said indignantly, making most of the others chuckle. The second man still frowned, though.

"As much as I enjoy the bantering, we need to talk."

Harry nodded, and he and the others spent the next ten minutes repairing at least the dining room and sitting room enough so that they could all sit comfortably on it. The second man, who he learned was called Fleamont, took care of the handful that survived their wounds, namely Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, Dolohov (the latter two barely) and Rudolphus. They helped put the bodies of them, Lucius, Bellatrix, Rabastan, Avery, and Macnair on a large pyre, burning their bodies to cinders and ensuring their past selves wouldn't run across the bodies. Crabbe and Jugson had been disintegrated when they ran into the wards. They then all settled in the living room, the six new arrivals in the centre with Fleamont and Charlus, while everyone else sat in a larger circle outside it to listen in.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked. Charlus chuckled.

"Your names, for one thing." We heard a name or two sporadically, but we don't know who to place them with."

Harry nodded, admitting the man's point. "That's Neville Longbottom, the girl with a bird's nest for hair" he ducked to avoid a swat from her, amusing the others "is Hermione Granger."

"A bit hypocritical, don't you think, considering your own hair?" Ginny asked.

"At least you can't hide quills in my hair. OUCH!" Harry rubbed the back of his head where Hermione had hit him with a thick and large tome on repairing charms and runes she'd learned to help the others. Sirius and Peter held their sides in laughter, and he saw James and Remus hold back their own laughs as well.

"You deserved it, you prat." she muttered, putting the book back on the table she'd put it on.

"Ever tried Sleekeazy?" Fleamont asked, discreetly reaching into his robe.

"I did." Hermione admitted. "But it's too much of a fuss for day-to-day use. For special occasions, maybe, but I don't fancy spending fifteen minutes putting it into my hair."

"A pity," Fleamont said, ceasing his attempt to likely get a bottle of the stuff.

"Anyway." Neville continued. "The red-haired menaces are Ron and Ginny Weasley. And that's Luna Lovegood."

"A pleasure." Luna called in her dreamy voice."

"And I'm..." Harry paused, preparing himself mentally for dropping the bombshell. Finally, he let out a sigh and turned to James. "I'm Harry Potter. Your son."

James turned gobsmacked to his 'son', and every person not already looking his way turned their heads to regard the Potter son.

"My son?" James asked. Harry nodded in confirmation, and after a moment Sirius shouted out.

"HA! Bloody hell! We got a Prongslet!"

"Prongslet?" Ron sputtered, and Harry immediately hit his forehead.

"No." he muttered. "Whatever you call me, please _not_ Prongslet."

"Why not?" Peter asked, a smile growing on his face. "It's better than _Bambi_."

Hermione lost it at that one, which in turn set off everyone else not Harry or above the age of eighteen. Harry glared at Peter. "Thank you." He said. "Thank you very much. I'm never going to live those two down."

"You're welcome," Peter smirked, as soon as he got his breath back. James, however, continued to look shocked at Harry.

"Bloody hell." he muttered, before moving much closer to look Harry over properly.

"Wait a moment," Fleamont said, a confused expression on his face. "If you're his son... who is your mother?"

Harry sighed, before looking at his father with a smile. "People say I look just like my father, but that I've got my mother's eyes."

James frowned a bit thinking it over, before taking a good look at his son's eyes. And when he saw whose eyes he did have, he smirked like the Cheshire cat.

"Padfoot, Wormtail, pay up!" he called, to the confusion of those not in on their nicknames. "You owe me twenty galleons."

Sirius seemed to know exactly what bet they were going on about, for his eyes widened to a comical size. "What?" he sputtered, making his own way over, and looking Harry in the eyes as well. He quickly got it as well and scowled.

"Dammit." he grabbed into his pocket and gave a handful of galleons to James.

"Alright, which one did we lose?" Peter said in an exasperated tone, as he walked over with his own pile of galleons in hand.

"The Evans bet," Sirius grumbled. Peter cursed under his own breath as he handed the gold to a smug James.

"All well and good that you got together with the love of your life," Remus said sarcastically, though there was a hint of a smirk on his face. "But what exactly happened that you guys get here?"

Harry sighed, running his hands through his hair nervously. "Where do I even start?"

"At the beginning," Dorea suggested calmly. "And don't worry. Take your time."

"It might help if one of you used Legillimency." Luna suggested. "It might convince them you're telling the truth."

Harry immediately groaned. "No. No Legillimency. I have bad experiences with Legillimency."

"Harry, these people aren't Professor Snape." Luna pressed. "Your grandparents were good legillimens and occlumens." she ignored the astonished looks of the marauders Snape made it as a professor. "They'll be much gentler than him at that."

Harry sighed, leaning back on the couch he shared with Hermione and Neville. "Can't we use Veritaserum or something?"

"We don't have any," Fleamont answered. "And it takes a month for me to brew, even if I get Ministry or MACUSA approval somehow. Like it or not Harry, but Legillimency is the best way to ascertain if you lot are who you say you are."

Harry sighed, before nodding. "Alright. Let's get this over with."

Charlus nodded as he leaned forward a bit. Harry instantly felt the push of Legillimency, but unlike the sessions with Snape, it was gentler and smoother. Instead of the instant hammer-like blows Snape delivered, this felt more like a scalpel smoothly cutting into sedated flesh. Harry soon saw his life flash past him, starting at his life with the Dursleys. He grimaced, as every painful memory of that time flashed past. The Harry-hunts, the time spent starved and locked up in the cupboard... he grimaced as the images of Ripper hunting him all the way into the tree flashed past.

But then the better parts began. The brief encounter with that snake in the zoo. Getting his Hogwarts letter from Hagrid, meeting Ron, Hermione, and Neville on the train, becoming the youngest Seeker in the century, his encounters in that year with Fluffy and Norbert, the forbidden corridor and Quirrell. He smiled, as he remembered Dobby's antics trying to keep him out. True, they were dangerous and hurtful back then, but looking back, he appreciated the fact Dobby worked so hard to protect him. Plus the fact he got to ride in a flying car...

But then he got to the incidents with the Heir of Slytherin. The blood on the walls, and not to mention the Chamber and diary itself. And let's not forget the Basilisk. He felt a particularly bad wince when the parts flashed past about what would happen to Ginny and who Tom Riddle really was.

The year around Sirius Black's escape and what really happened seemed to really bother Charlus, as Harry felt a few... shocks along the connection felt like the best description. However, he also felt pride coming from his Grandfather, concerning some of the events from that year. Getting a Firebolt as a present from Sirius, how he managed to properly win the Quidditch cup, his growing friendship with Remus and accepting his furry problem, and most importantly the fact he managed a Patronus that managed to drive off nearly a hundred Dementors.

The fourth year flashed by Harry's eyes quite a bit quicker than the other memories, at least until the tournament started and he was named as a fourth contestant. Harry had to really concentrate, but he thought he actually felt anger coming to Charlus he was forced to compete. The rest of the tournament went by quite fast for him, though it lingered on the first task, and how he'd outflown a Hungarian Horntail. But Harry felt another jab at his heart when he relived the resurrection of Voldemort and saw Cedric die again right before his eyes. He knew he would have to live with that for the rest of his life, regardless of how well the future went. And knowing his luck, he knew it would never be going as well as he wanted.

Then they got to the fifth year, and he once again could feel Charlus anger through the Legillimency connection. Very curious, since he'd never been able to feel any sort of emotion come from Snape when he performed mind-magic. Perhaps Charlus was simply better at it. But he felt it very clearly that Charlus felt righteous anger at the Dementor attack and the ministry's response to it. And then the debacle at Hogwarts that was Umbridge, and on top of Dumbledore ignoring him... It needn't be mentioned that this was the worst year for Harry in Charlus' opinion. He did feel quite a bit of his grandfather's pride at the DA, but it was simply overshadowed by all that had gone wrong that year.

And then the vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort came past again, as well as Harry's response to it. If Charlus hadn't been so focused on performing Legillimency, Harry got the feeling that his grandfather would have planted his head in his hands at Harry's recklessness. Harry admitted he hadn't thought it all through properly, but he still felt he had done what seemed right at the time, and he couldn't fault himself for that. He saw Umbridge's failed attempts at communicating with the Centaurs, how he'd handled the Department of Mysteries and its Death Eater ambush, before finally settling on the Time Chamber and the fight in the manor.

He felt Charlus withdraw from his mind, and he finally saw himself back in the living room. Charlus collapsed backward in his chair, holding his head in his hand. Immediately, he saw Dorea and Fleamont move to help him, while those of Harry's group also came closer to support him.

"Bloody hell," Charlus muttered, before turning to Fleamont. "Firewhiskey," he said immediately. "The bottle from 1709. A full glass."

"That bad?" Fleamont asked, with eyebrows raised.

"Worse," Charlus answered, his eyes not leaving Harry's figure. "But I don't have anything stronger here."

Fleamont frowned in concern, but obeyed and moved to a cabinet at the back of the room that had escaped the destruction of the fight. He pulled the door open and pushed a number of books aside, tapping his wand to the back wall. Immediately a small section disappeared, and he saw a number of objects in a gap in the wall appear in its place. Among the objects, there were a number of books Harry had no doubt were dark in nature, as well as a number of rare potion vials. But instead, Fleamont went for one of a number of bottles there, grabbed it, and made the wall covering the hidden stash reappear. He grabbed a glass from the same cabinet, filled it nearly to the rim, and held it out for Charlus to take. The man took it and swallowed the contents in one long gulp.

"Blimey." Harry heard Ron mutter as he leaned closer to Hermione. "And you joke about _my_ eating habits?" Harry snickered, as Hermione turned the thick tome on Ron this time, and he heard Neville do the same on his other side.

Charlus finally finished the glass, and set it down on the table. "Bloody hell, Harry. All the stuff you went through."

"He's telling the truth?" Fleamont pressed. "All of it?"

"If anything, he's downplaying what happened so far." Charlus returned, and Fleamont cursed. "Bloody hell."

"Language." Euphemia returned, as she finally strode into the room. Harry hadn't even noticed her leave. It must have been during his Legillimency session with Charlus. "What will James and Sirius think of that?"

"They're Blacks, Phemie." a frowning Dorea returned. "They already know far worse than anything Fleamont can teach them. And don't take that as a challenge!" she yelled that last bit and pointed her finger when Fleamont raised his eyebrows challengingly.

Charlus merely sighed and turned to the Potter family and their friends. "Laugh all you want. But these people have had one of the most turbulent lives in history." He briefly looked at Harry, before continuing at Harry's nod. "He's orphaned, raised by his muggle relatives, fought a troll at age eleven, and encountered his first Dementor at age thirteen. And that's only the tip of the iceberg."

"He WHAT?!" Dorea yelled, her gaze turning to Harry. And Harry actually withdrew slightly. She seemed terrifying when she was angry, and the sudden shaking of Neville next to him confirmed that thought.

"What the hell were you doing there?" Dorea pressed. "We would have gladly raised you."

"You couldn't have." It was Neville who answered, and all heads turned to him. Even Harry, Hermione and some of the others from their time looked at him in surprise. Neville blushed at the attention but continued on anyway.

"My Gran told me once when I was younger. While Harry's parents and friends were at a bachelor party somewhere, Death Eaters attacked the Manor during a large family celebratory gathering. It was burned to the ground by Fiendfyre. No survivors, as far as anyone knew."

Fleamont cursed, and upended a small side table with a vase on it, surprising everyone. James, meanwhile, took on a sad look as he looked at his parents in a new light.

"Any idea how?" Charlus pressed, as he looked at Neville. "Because Fleamont's powerful enough to at least tame Fiendfyre enough to let us get out. And I reckon I could do it too if push came to shove."

"I don't know," Neville answered. "My Gran thinks the wards were turned against the residents, somehow. But no one could find any proof."

"They wouldn't," Fleamont said. "Fiendfyre would have erased any magical trace on top of burning down the Manor and property. Even the old coot of Hogwarts wouldn't have found out what happened beyond the Fiendfyre curse."

"So we all died?" Euphemia asked.

"No." Charlus said before Harry could even open his mouth to answer. "Peter was imperiused and forced to betray James and Harry's mother," the Marauders opened their mouths in shock, but Charlus continued. "Sirius was framed for it, and Remus suffered because of increasingly restrictive Werewolf laws. Peter hid away in shame, and is on the run when Sirius tried to murder him for it in anger."

The Marauders all looked at another in shock, and Harry couldn't blame him. Remus and Sirius had said quite often that the Marauders were practically inseparable when they were at Hogwarts. The thought of even one of them betraying the others, even under the Imperius curse, was unthinkable to them. And at the hurt look, Peter had, he could see why Charlus lied about how Peter really caused James to die. Clearly, whatever had caused Peter to join the Death Eaters hasn't happened yet.

Hermione was furiously whispering to Ron and Ginny, clearly explaining to them why they were sticking with that bit, and it went unnoticed by all those not in the know about what had really happened to Peter. The others were still too much in shock about the predicted betrayal.

In the end, it was Peter who spoke up. "But we can change that, right?" he asked hesitantly. "We can undo all that now, with all that you guys know." his face brightened suddenly, and he suddenly got a certain gleam to himself. "You guys know what happened during the last war. You can predict where You-Know-Who will attack! You can change the face of the war, make it go better even. You could change the world for the better, for all of us."

The others from this time all looked intrigued by this, though for various reasons. The adults were clearly interested in how they could clearly affect the war for the better, and fight against You-Know-Who with an advantage of knowing what he would do. The Marauders, Harry predicted, would be very interested in preventing this worst-case-scenario of how their group could clearly be undone.

"I don't know," Hermione said hesitantly. "It was drilled into us that it was very dangerous to mess with time. If we change anything, it could create various paradoxes that might end up getting us killed."

"Maybe." Fleamont conceded. "I have a friend in the Department of Mysteries. While Time Turners do exist already, none of them are able to bring you back to the future. And according to him, research into it won't start for a long, _long_ time. Like it or not, you are stuck here."

"And unless you intend to lock yourselves up in our shelter under the cellar and not come out until you're dying, you're going to affect time anyway," Dorea said. "So you might as well use this chance to change the future for the better."

Hermione hesitated at this. While Harry knew she would still be opposed to this, he knew his words were getting through to her, and if not slowly convincing her, at least think this through a bit more.

"Hermione," he said, putting a hand on her shoulder and making her look at him. "I hate asking this, but is the world back there really that good a world to return to? With Sirius forced on the run, Fudge bungling up Wizarding Britain, and Dumbledore practically powerless to stop it all, don't you think it would be better if we helped prevent all that?"

"But... our friends," she said. "my parents, Ron's family, the other Sirius, and Remus, not to mention your aunt and uncle-"

"They would hold a party to celebrate my disappearance." Harry dismissed bitterly. "And if we do change things for the better, we have a much better world to look forward to."

"But..." she started, before trailing off and looking at Ron and Ginny. The Weasley siblings indeed looked quite sad at the prospect they might not see their parents and brothers again.

But Neville spoke up then. "Harry's right, you know. We have a chance to change the world for the better. And even if we can't, if we live long enough we can still meet our relatives later on. It's not as if they die and we can never meet them again."

"And we can meet our parents," Harry said, as much to Neville as to Hermione. "Come on, Hermione, there is so much we can change for the better."

"I agree." Ron finally said with a sigh. "I might not like it, but there are better points and almost no bad ones. Not to mention our defence teachers won't be rubbish. No offence, Professor Lupin."

Contrary to being offended, as Ron expected, the Marauders burst into a fresh round of laughter, and Remus blushed furiously as he punched Sirius in the arm.

"Forgive us," James said, to the confusion of everyone else. "But he's such a know-it-all sometimes that we joke he should just take up a teaching position."

"Reckon he'd get along with Hermione just fine then," Ron said. "OW."

"Careful, _Ronald_ ," Ginny said smugly, lowering the tome she'd stolen from Hermione. "Or I might reveal-"

"Ok, Ok," he said quickly, blushing furiously. "I'll stop."

"Whipped," Sirius whispered to James, smirking.

"Ok." Hermione finally said. "I'd guess it would be better if we stayed and helped."

"Excellent," Fleamont said, before frowning. "We'd have to come up with a damn good cover story though. None of us are that good at tutoring, and it'll be hard to explain how the six of you suddenly showed up."

"That's simple, really," Luna said, getting the attention from everyone. "We say he's James's twin."  
Charlus and Dorea looked between the two specified twins, while the others (Hermione and Ron specifically) gave Luna incredulous looks.

"It could work." Charlus finally said. "We could have sent him to the continent for extra tutoring, and that we pulled him back due to the war. Merlin knows he's powerful enough for that."

"And what of the rest of us?" Ginny asked, walking forwards to join in on the discussions.

"Friends he met during his schooling abroad, and who wanted to go with him to Hogwarts," Fleamont said, tapping his chin in thought as he worked out the details. "Either Muggleborns, or Halfbloods, since we don't know any prominent Pureblood families on the continent you lot can convincingly say you're from." He paused, looking at Neville with a frown. "Neville resembles his parents too much, though. And they aren't as private as we are, so that could be an issue."

"No, it won't," Neville said. "We tell them as well, and we discuss any options with them. If nothing else, I can pretend to be the son of uncle Algie, and he's an Unspeakable so people won't know much about him anyway. I'm sure he'll agree."

Charlus and Fleamont shared glances but nodded. "I'll have them floo'd over at the end of the month so we can discuss the details, but that could work," Fleamont admitted. "As for possible aliases for those of you that need it, we'll go to Gringotts tomorrow and set up trust accounts for all of you, Charlus will talk to Dumbledore and get you signed up to go to Hogwarts, and we'll figure the long run out from there."

"Funny how you leave the annoying job to me, little brother." Charlus snarked.

"Well, I can't very well go up there and do it for you, can I? Especially since you and Dorea will be looking after them, and not me and Phemie."

"You're not staying?" Harry asked of his great-uncle, who shook his head.

"I live in North America, and I can't stay away too long. Sleekeazy would fail without me. I'm leaving at the end of next week." Fleamont shook his head sadly. "I promise I'll write, though."

Harry nodded. "Alright. That could work. We could spend our years in Hogwarts learning as much as we can, and afterward, we'll help out any way we can."

Charlus nodded as well, rising from his seat. "Agreed. Now all of you off to bed. We had a long day, and you'll all need your rest. We'll work out names, Gringotts and which year you'll be in in the morning."

Harry nodded reluctantly, not wanting to go to bed so soon after meeting his family. But a yawn from Ron, who in turn set of Peter, Remus and Neville, drove home the point they had indeed had a long day. And he himself also felt quite tired. A day long of exams, especially in the boring subject of History of Magic, followed by the circumstances of dealing with Umbridge, Grawp and the Centaurs, hours of holding on while he flew a Thestral, and the prolonged battle with Death Eaters at the Ministry and Potter Manor had left him quite exhausted, not to mention the energy the forced images of Sirius being tortured had taken from him. He knew they would need their rest.

"Where do we sleep?" Harry asked.

"For now you'll sleep in our guest quarters," Charlus answered. "They have multiple beds and can hold you all for now. We'll sort this out, like the other details, in the morning. Now go on, scat. Before I set Dorea on you."

Harry couldn't help but smirk, as the Marauders hurried to get up and out of the room. Harry and the rest of his group reluctantly got up and followed closely, heading for the Foyer. As Luna had said, it was a mess. Everywhere he looked beast corpses and rubble were strewn around the large hall, and he had trouble walking through a narrow path to one of the two circular stairs and up to the second floor. When they got up there the Marauders headed down the main hall, and James stopped halfway and pointed to his right.

"You'll be staying in there for now." he said, opening the door and pointing to the final two doors behind it on their side of the hall. Inside was, as said, a guest room with two beds, a cabinet for clothes and a door leading to a bathroom. A sofa was located below a window on one side of the wall, and a desk with parchment and ink bottles occupied the sole remaining side of the room. It was quite spacious, too, the result of an extension charm no doubt.

"We're bunking in James' room across from you guys," Sirius said, pointing to one of the rooms in the hall. "Charles and adores are in the other wing with Flemie and Phemie."

"Flemie, huh?" Peter asked knowingly. "If you think You-Know-Who is scary, you say that to his face, _Siri._ "

"I won't," Sirius said immediately, a fearful look in his eyes. "I like my hair the way it is, thank you very much."

Harry smirked, as everyone gave a good laugh at that. It had been a tense evening, and they needed something to loosen their nerves.

"Well, uh... Good night." Harry said awkwardly. James nodded, just as troubled at finding words for what had happened.

"Yeah. Goodnight." He said as well. With that, he shepherded the Marauders into his room quite roughly and slammed the door behind him. Leaving Harry and his friends standing awkwardly in the room.

"Soooo..." Ron trailed off.

"How do we do this?" Neville asked nervously, likely worrying about being picked as the last one to be paired with. Something Harry had noticed for himself never did much good for someone's self-confidence.

"How about we move the two beds from the third room to the other two, and boys and girls sleep together, like in the dorms at school?" Harry suggested. Of all people, Luna let out a chuckle.

"Funny. I had a very different image in mind when you said _sleeping together_." She explained. Harry instantly felt his cheeks heat up, and he saw all of the others had similar troubles not being embarrassed. The fact they heard roaring laughter from Sirius coming back out of the room and walking on that comment certainly didn't help matters.

"Oh, I like you." Sirius said once he'd recovered his breath. "Please tell me you're a Gryffindor!"

"Ravenclaw, actually." Luna answered in a dreamy voice. "And unlike you, the Nargles ensured I actually had brains during birth."

Now it was the turn of everyone else, including the remaining Marauders, to laugh as Sirius took on a wounded look.

"She's got you there, Padfoot." Remus said, smirking as he dragged Sirius back into their room. "Frankly, it's a wonder you even made your OWL year."

"And yet Prongs-" Sirius' retort was cut off, as the door slammed closed again, and this time the Marauders didn't come out again after a few seconds.

"Let's get to it." Ginny said, heading for the room next to the Marauders and lifting up one of the beds with a Wingardium Leviosa. "Because I'm tired."

Harry nodded, and he and Neville helped guide Ron and Ginny as they lifted the two beds into the guest rooms, while Luna and Hermione helped get them through the doors with temporary extension charms on the doorways. The girls collapsed them after a few seconds, the spell far above both their years and still too difficult for them for long. But it was enough, and the beds made it into the room. Harry and the others bade the girls goodnight, and then the boys helped put the beds in the right place. In the end, they settled for a style not too dissimilar from their dorm back in Gryffindor tower, with the beds all against the wall, the foots pointed to the centre. Harry collapsed on the one the farthest from any of the doors, sitting up to take off his shoes. Neville sat on the sofa to do the same, while Ron didn't bother to even do that, so tired he fell asleep the moment he briefly lay down on the bed. The characteristic snoring soon followed after.

"Good night, Harry." Neville said, as he lay underneath the blankets of his own bed, and soon fell asleep as well. Harry sighed, wishing he could do the same as well. But he had stuff to do. He knew he could technically also do it tomorrow, but it felt better to him to do it now so they wouldn't have to worry about it later.

First, he put the Prophecy down on the desk, encircling it with his belt so it wouldn't roll off while he slept. He wanted to view it now, but he was too tired to take it in properly, and he knew the others would want to see it too. If anything, Charlus and Fleamont might have some advice on how he should take its contents.

Next, he put his captured wands beside it. Mulciber's, Jugson's, Rabastan's, Rudolphus's, and Nott's. He knew Hermione already had Crabbe's and Neville had laid down Bellatrix's next to the one of his father. He would sort those tomorrow among the othersas well, first thing. The wand chose the wizard, after all, and it was a good idea to have at least one back-up. True, some might not fit any of them properly, but it was worth a try.

Then, he checked to see if he had forgotten anything else. And to his surprise, he did. He felt a slight bump in his lower back under his shirt, and pulled it out. Damn, he'd almost forgotten he'd started carrying his Invisibility Cloak everywhere with him since last Christmas. Sirius had told him to after relating a tale of how he'd once caught his parents snogging behind a statue in an abandoned part of the castle with it after intending to return it with the map for a prank they were supposed to pull. And Sirius had stressed he'd never know when opportunities would come along, and that having the cloak on him would always be handy.

It was for that reason he'd started carrying it and the last object he had with him everywhere he went. He pulled the last thing out of his pant's pocket, and lay the parchment down on the desk, covering the orb and wands with it. Oh, the Marauders would scream in joy if they learned they had access to _two_ cloaks and _two_ Marauder Maps. If only he'd thought of it back in Umbridge's office to give it to Hermione while he Floo'd Kreacher, the mess could have been avoided altogether.

He lay back down on his bed, trying to sleep. But it still eluded him. What did the vision mean? Usually, he only had visions of things happening near Voldemort in the present, when it happened at that exact moment, like with the snake and Ron's father. So why was he having visions of Voldemort's past? Why was he seeing his memories? Another thing to raise with Dorea and Charlus, he was sure. And when he did that, he would make sure to also show the memory itself. Horcruxes. So that might explain how Voldemort survived all these years. It would explain how he could get a new body if he had never truly died in the first place.

But that made him wonder. If one destroyed every single one of his Horcruxes, would one be able to actually kill Voldemort himself? After all, if those anchors are destroyed, there would be nothing tying him to this world.

Harry shot up from his bed. Of course! As they had discussed earlier, they were here to change the course of the bloody war. They had discussed it themselves bare minutes ago. And this was the biggest game changer the war could possibly get. If Charlus saw and realised this, and hunted down and destroyed the Horcruxes with Dumbledore, they could bring the war to an absolute end a whole lot sooner. They had a real chance of winning this! He quickly made his way to the desk and wrote it down on a spare piece of parchment, after making sure he wasn't writing on the map by accident. He didn't want to forget this lapse of momentary brilliance.

Satisfied he'd already established at least some sort of goal for the future, he headed back to bed. And this time, like Ron, he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the bed.

* * *

 **Well, here's the first chapter. Please, tell me if you like it or not. Reviews are much appreciated.**

 **next stop: Harry relates his plan, meeting the Longbottoms, Gringotts and its surprising revelations regarding the time travelers, Diagon Alley, establishing alibis, and establishing friendships.**

 **until next time**

 **Lucian Valerious**


	2. Chapter 2

**Back again.**

 **As promised, Here is the next part. Hope you enjoy.**

 **Concerning the pairings: I got a surprising amount of support for maintaining the Harry/Ginny pairing, and unless I get a massive amount of criticism for it, I think it'll stick. For those making the comments they should stay together; I asked the readers to choose for a reason. I had no idea where I wanted to go with the pairings. I thought I might try something original, but if you want a Harry/Ginny Pairing, you'll get one. On the similar note: Hermione/Remus (suggestion of a close friend of mine) and Sirius/Luna (can honestly say I didn't expect that one, but it could be hilarious!) are up in the air. Thoughts?**

 **Warning: Mature content. And not the type that sees people remove clothes and have sex (shoot me for saying that word, assholes).**

* * *

Chapter 2

Harry sighed contently as he woke up. He just had the oddest dream of his life. In the middle of his History of Magic OWL exam, he had a vision of Sirius being tortured by Voldemort, and he rushed to help him with Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Luna, with Neville tagging along behind them when he catches up to them, and they try to Floo Grimmauld place and confirm whether Sirius is truly there or not.

He only barely manages to hear from Kreacher that Sirius isn't there, before Umbridge tears him out, confirms she sent the Dementors last July and threatens to Torture him for information.

To make it even more amusing, Hermione intervenes and leads Umbridge to the Centaurs and Grawp instead, and they are rid of the woman almost instantly. Then, they fly on Thestrals to the ministry to steal a Prophecy, and they fight Death Eaters to keep it safe, only to get sent back in time in the confusion and meet his family and the marauders. If he didn't know better, he'd swear he'd taken some of those drugs he'd seen some upper years use, and which Seamus and Dean spoke about in hushed whispers. It was simply too amazing to be real.

He picked up his glasses from his nightstand and put them on. As fun as the dream was, it simply couldn't be real. His parents and family were dead, most of the Marauders were on the run or turned traitor, and he had no blasted prophecy on hand.

He was halfway through his morning routine, however, when he started noticing he wasn't in the Gryffindor dormitory. For one, there were only three beds instead of five, and Seamus and Dean were missing. The room was also a bit bigger than the dorm, and the door to the bathroom was in a different place.

And the crest painted on the floor...

He snuck out of the room. There was only one way to be sure. Indeed, he didn't enter the boy's staircase of Gryffindor tower, like he expected. Instead, he entered an ornate if short hall, with two doors to his right, one in front of him, and a pair of doors to his left that led to a landing. He quietly tiptoed across the hall and snuck a peak inside the room in front of him.

To his astonishment, he saw them laying there, the Marauders. And despite his shock, he struggled not to laugh at their various positions. Sirius lay sprawled on top of a large sofa, he head and half his upper body leaning on the ground as he lay upside-down on top of it, drool escaping from his open mouth as he snored. Peter lay quietly on his side in the fetal position on a conjured mattress under a blanket, actually sucking his thumb in his sleep. His father lay normally, his body straight and his arms calmly at his sides, his head turned away from the door in the bed. And Remus lay on a second conjured mattress as if he was being prepared for a funeral. His head looked up even with closed eyes, and his hands lay on his chest, holding a pendant.

He quietly closed the door and leaned against the wall. It was real. He had really traveled back in time. He really had a chance to spend time with his parents. "Bloody hell." he muttered at his fortune. It was a dream come true for him.

And with that, all the memories of last night returned. The memory of Voldemort inquiring about Horcruxes, and Harry's plan to destroy all those that Voldemort had created. It put a bit of a damper on his mood. Of course, it needed to happen. But talkng about Voldemort was never a good thing for him. He snuck back in, grabbed his shoes, wand, and the parchment he had written his thoughts on. As an afterthought he also slipped the Prophecy into his jacket pocket. Charlus and the others might want to see it, too.

And then of course the bloody wands he wanted to divide among the others. He himself felt Mulciber's seemed to match best with him, aside from his own, so he put that one in his back pocket. Then, figuring he might as well take it all anyway, he also grabbed the map and Invisibility Cloak. Having everything he wanted, he snuck back out, closing the door behind him.

He made his way downstairs. If he was staying here for the foreseeable future, he might as well explore the place properly. He made it out of the hallway and came to the landing. To his surprise it was in very good condition. The corpses from Fleamont and Luna's battle with Walden Macnair and his beasts still lay there, but the damage to the room was undone, even if it still was a bit dirty with blood and innards. He tiptoed his way around them, and made it back to the living room. It was quite cozy, a number of couches all centred around a table with a Wireless on. Behind it stood multiple cabinets with shelves filled with various things, including china, books, and to his surprise numerous vinyl music records. Below it was written on a piece of wood 'James' collection. Do not touch!' in red. Harry chuckled, and wondered how much of that was genuine interest and how much was trying to discern why his mother liked it.

He walked through the next door, and was surprised he walked onto a small patio outside. And he wasn't alone. His grandmother Dorea stood there, a cup with tea in her hand as she stared at the sunrise. He was amazed by the view, as he slowly walked to stand beside her. From here, the sun shone brightly on the rest of the land before them as it illuminated the property. It was a large stretch of grass mostly, with a few poles laying down that once erect would make for ideal quidditch poles. It ended at the edge of a forest that seemed to stretch far enough he couldn't see the end of it on either side from here.

Something swooped quite closely over him, and he ducked. As he looked up, however, he sighed in relief. It was only a Thestral, and it seemed to be headed for that forest.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Dorea said in wonder. "I see why Charlus' grandfather, Harrison, chose this piece of land."

"It's amazing." Harry admitted, before letting out a sigh. "I wish I grew up here. It would be..."

"like home." Dorea finished. "And that's what it will be now. We won't abandon you, Harry."

Harry nodded in thanks, then reached into his pocket. "Is Charlus awake? I need to show you two and Fleamont a few things that could affect our plans for the future."

"Of course." Dorea nodded, though her brows furrowed in concern. "It's early enough James and the others won't rise for quite a while. And it'll take a herd of ten kids ages to wake up properly."

Harry nodded in thanks, and followed her inside back to the living room. "If you have a Pensieve, it would be handy to have on hand as well." he added as an afterthought.

Dorea nodded, as she left the room while he sat back down on the couch, looking his plans over one more time. It was quite simple. Harry and the others would finish their education, while Charlus, Fleamont and Dorea would search for clues as to what the Horcruxes might be and where they are right now. He already had a guess as to one of them, the Diary from his second year. It was simply too advanced and conscious to be anything else, and while he was no expert on magic or claimed to know everything, he felt it was quite a safe guess to think the diary might be one. But as to the others? He had no clue.

Then, after they'd finished their education, the Potters, Marauders, time travellers and anyone they trusted enough would briefly remove themselves from the war so they could focus entirely on hunting down the Horcruxes and destroying them for good. It would also ensure that when they confronted Voldemort, he would die off for good, never to return. Then, he could focus on his dreams and what he truly wanted to do.

His thoughts were interrupted by the adults returning, Euphemia carrying the bowl under one arm.  
"Alright, we're here kid." Fleamont said sleepily. "What is it?"

"Well..." he started hesitantly, unsure where to begin. In the end, he decided to tell everything. "Shortly before coming here, I felt my head hurt a lot, and I blacked out. When I woke up, I was in a memory. A memory belonging to Voldemort." he paused, as Charlus and Dorea flinched. Fleamont and Euphemia didn't, but then again they spent most of their time in the United States, so it wasn't hard to guess they didn't fear the name as much of the others did.

"It's better if I show you the memory." he said, before putting his wand to his head like he saw Dumbledore do, and focused on the memory. When he withdrew the wand, he was surprised to see a little ball of light on the tip of his wand. He dipped it into the Pensieve as Euphemia put it on the table, and watched the ball of light be absorbed into it.

"You want to join us?" Charlus asked, as he gestured at the Pensieve. Harry shook his head. Once staring at a disturbingly manipulative Riddle was enough. Charlus nodded in acknowledgement, and he and the others dipped their heads in. When they came back out a few minutes later, there were various expressions on their faces. Euphemia looked quite upset at the implication Riddle had made these Horcurxes, while Fleamont and Dorea looked outraged at the possibility of such dark magic being used. Charlus, on the other hand, actually _smirked_.

"Thank you for showing us." Euphemia said with a quivering voice, obviously a bit disturbed by what she saw.

"This is brilliant." Charlus said, and his voice grew more excited the more he spoke. "This is exactly what we need. You're right, Harry. This is very important."

"I'm missing something." Fleamont ground out. "Why are you happy about the fact the man literally split his sole in multiple pieces, and has them hidden around the world?"

"Because unlike the rest of the world, we _know_." Harry answered. "We know how Voldemort makes himself immortal. And that means we can look for a way to destroy them."

Fleamont finally understood what Harry was saying, and let an unsteady smile sneak in. "Yeah. I see what you mean. But it'll take years to find them."

"Harry and his friends needs to finish his education anyway." Dorea said. "I say we let them. And let the rest of you Rascals look up the Horcruxes and what they could be."

Upon hearing that, Fleamont and Charlus grinned like mad men, and high-fived one another in enthusiasm.

"About time." Charlus said so enthusiastically it almost made Harry forget they had only just spoken about one of the darkest forms of magic possible to perform. "We needed a band reunion for a _long_ time."

"We might even break through the surly git's bad temper." Fleamont smirked, and Charlus laughed. Euphemia and Dorea both looked on fondly at the two brother's antics. Harry, however, stared confusedly at them. What were they talking about?

Upon seeing Harry's confused expression, Charlus chuckled. "We'll explain later. The others will want to hear this bit as well. But lets just say this: You have your five friends. James has the Marauders. And Fleamont and I have the Rascals."

"Speaking of Rascals," Dorea said. "I invited the Longbottoms for a late breakfast here yesterday after you guys fell to sleep, to let them meet their son. Is that alright?"

The other four all stared at him, and Harry realised for the first time they saw him as some sort of leader for their group. And he suddenly realised he likely was. Sure, Hermione and Ron had suggestions that could alter it, and the others all had their own ideas. But it was often him that ended up leading them into adventures, like the Department of Mysteries the previous day... or the distant future...

Damn, time travel hurt his brain.

"Yeah... sure," Harry said when he realised he hadn't given an answer. "Just be sure to tell the others, especially Neville. I think it won't go over well to surprise him with his parents suddenly appearing on his doorstep."

"I think that would be wise." Charlus agreed. "I'll get-"

"NO, SIRIUS!" A yell came from upstairs, and a second later a herd of people fled into the room, Peter and Neville locking the doors behind them. Said people consisted of James, Neville, Ron, Peter, and Remus.

"Speak of the devil," Charlus said as he hid the Pensieve under the living room table. "What the hell are you guys running from? Where's your Gryffindor courage?"

"Disappears instantly when Hermione's that angry." Ron answered. "Sirius and Hermione got talking, and Sirius accidentally insulted her hair. And suffice to say" he was interrupted by Sirius running into the room from another doorway, followed closely by Hermione, Ginny and Luna (the former with a wand in hand and a furious expression on her face, the other two holding their sides in laughter at what was happening) as they chased Sirius throughout the house.

"Things went downhill from there." Ron finished.

"Come on, Hermione." Sirius tried. "It would be a hilari-

"If you steal a muggle car and drive in it wearing an invisibility cloak on halloween, I'll neuter you in _both_ forms, Black!" Hermione yelled, her stinging hex missing Sirius by centimetres as he ducked behind a couch.

"But the faces of-" he tried again.

Hermione finally hit him in the face, and Sirius yelped. Hermione managed to hit him three more times before finally relenting, with nearly everyone else laughing in the background.

"Aright enough." Dorea said, restoring order to the room with a smirk. "Get to the table, we're having breakfast in half an hour." she said, before taking Neville aside, likely to inform him about the arrangement. Harry smirked, as he grabbed most of the others.

"Guys, I still got the wands of most of the Death Eaters." he said, holding them out. "I think it's a good idea for all of us to have at least one spare, as a back-up."

The others nodded, and each grabbed one of them. Ron and Ginny grabbed Rudolphus' and Rabastan's respectively, while Luna took a hold of Jugson's as well as keeping Avery's. Hermione stuck with Crabbe's wand, and Harry in the end settled for Mulciber's and Nott's. He noticed that like him, none of the others had changed into different clothes either. Luna had gone to a bit of effort to clean some of the blood off hers, and her sleeve wasn't as heavily torn anymore, but aside from that they all still had the same clothes.

He sat down in the dining room at one of the chairs, joined by Ron on one side and a disheveled Sirius on the other. His cheek was still swollen and red from the stinging hex. The entire household sat around the large round table, Dorea and Neville keeping a section of it clear for the Longbottoms.

They were interrupted from even commenting by a large crash, and everyone looked up. "I'll get them." Dorea said, standing up and heading for the door.

"I swear, that is the last time I use Floo travel." Harry heard a young girl say as soon as the door opened. He peeked inside around Fleamont, and saw two adults and two teenagers, seventh years if Harry had to guess. Both of the latter had certain characteristics of Neville: like him, Neville strongly resembled his father, while he had his mother's eyes, ears and nose.

"What is it, Dorea?" the man asked. He wore elaborate robes Harry had seen once before, a few minutes before his trial at the Ministry. A Head Auror. "Your message seemed urgent."

Dorea merely gestured inside, pointing to the newcomers. The elder Longbottoms raised their eyebrows in surprise, turning to Charlus and the other adults.

"I didn't realise you were hosting a social event, Charlus." the woman said, Neville's grandmother judging by the stuffed vulture on her hat.

"It's part of the reason of why we asked you to come." Charlus explained. "Yesterday evening, we had an intrusion in the manor. When we investigated, we came across these six kids, as well as Death Eaters who had followed them here."

"How'd they get past the wards?" the man asked. "Serephina renewed them herself last month."

"They came here through a very obscure branch of magic," Charlus said. "Time magic, to be precise."

The woman (Augusta, if Harry remembered correctly from last Christmas) frowned. "You mean these children-"

"And the Death Eaters." Fleamont added. "The bastards ruined the foyer and the dining room last night."

"They're from the past?" Augusta asked, sounding skeptical.

"The future." Charlus corrected, before gesturing at Harry and the others in turn. "Hector, Augusta: Meet my grandson, Harry Potter, and his friends Hermione Granger, Ronald and Ginevra Weasley, Luna Lovegood, and last and most definitely not least: Neville Longbottom. Frank and Alice's son."

The Longbottoms all turned to Neville in surprise, who looked at them despite blushing a shade of red worse than Weasley hair, and shaking so much from the nerves Harry almost heard the chair creak. In the end, it was the younger girl with Frank who stepped forward.

"You're our son?" she asked, looking him in the eye. Neville nodded.

"This isn't a prank?" Frank asked, turning to the Marauders. James immediately stood beside Harry and clasped his shoulder.

"No prank," James said, his voice surprisingly serious. "Look, even I got to meet my son. Hell, we're approximately the same age."

"Sounds very odd if one didn't know the context," Remus muttered under his breath.

"It's me, dad." Neville said finally, tears coming into his eyes. After that, he shot up and gave his parents a hug. Frank and Alice both looked startled for a few moments, but recovered quickly and returned it just as strongly.

"What's up, kiddo?" Frank asked after a few moments, ending the hug so he could take a much closer look at his son. "You look like you're seeing us for the first time."

"In a way, he has." Harry answered heavily. The Longbottoms all turned to him in concern, and he in turn looked at Neville for permission. Neville nodded, and Harry continued. "The Longbottoms were attacked in 1981, by the Lestrange brothers, one of their wives, and a fourth Death Eater. Neville and Madam Longbottom weren't home, but Frank and Alice..." Harry paused for a few moments, unsure how to bring this. It wasn't every day you told someone they would be tortured into insanity in the future.

"We died." Frank said, taking his silence in a slightly wrong way. "Didn't we?"

"No." Neville said softly, surprising Harry. He hadn't expected the boy to take the burden upon himself. "Cruciatus curse. So long you went insane. Permanent treatment at St Mungo's. You" Neville's breath hitched for a few moments. "You barely recognise me. You both know I am important to you, but that's it. I never even heard you say my name."

The reactions from the Longbottoms were varied. Alice flung Neville into another strong hug, and Frank grabbed both their shoulders in support. Augusta Longbottom grabbed a handkerchief and dabbed it at her eyes, while the man next to her wore a very grave expression, fidgeting with his hands while looking away from his children.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," Alice said with an emotional voice after a few moments, and as she finally let go of Neville he saw tears in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

"Who raised you?" The man standing with Augusta asked.

"Gran did," Neville answered. "You did as well, for a time. But you died before I could remember you. Dragon Pox."

"Told you to stop going to those reserves," Fleamont grumbled under his breath. Charlus swatted him over the head to shut him up.

"Well, we're here now," Frank said resolutely. "And I promise you, Nev: We're not going anywhere this time."

Neville nodded and smiled at his parents.

"As fun as this family reunion is," Charlus interrupted awkwardly. "We still have a slight problem. Neville needs to finish Hogwarts for his OWL year and upwards, and he resembles Frank quite strongly. We might be able to pull off the twin act with Harry due to our natural privacy, but you guys mingle with the public too much to pull that one off."

The Longbottom lord sighed. "You're right. We've made our family too well-known to the public to make that one work. Making his identity a family secret _might_ work, but how would we explain where he's been all these years?"

There was a long silence, as everyone thought over the possibilities. Harry himself, obviously, drew a blank. How would he explain where he'd met Neville? The only place he could think off was where he was taught all he knew, but where would that be? He didn't know of any other wizard of schools in Europe aside from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. Durmstrang didn't seem like the type of school he and Neville would be sent to, and they couldn't speak enough French to pass that off if their life depended on it.

"Harry," Luna whispered. The others all turned to her.

"What is it, Luna?" He asked.

"Neville went with Harry." Luna answered, a bit louder this time so everyone could hear. "It makes sense. Neville and Harry proved to be very powerful in their youth, and were sent to the continent to learn how to control it from various private tutors." She paused. "It would also explain how they met us." She gestured to herself, Hermione, Ron and Ginny. "We were learning from some of the same tutors, stayed in contact, and when we heard Harry and Neville decided to attend Hogwarts we wanted to come too."

That was actually a very well thought-out plan. If he ever slipped up with one of his earlier years he could say it happened on his and Neville's travels, and it wouldn't be hard to make it all a bit more believable, if they could make aliases for Ron, Ginny and Luna. Hermione could pass with her own name, for no one would look for records of a muggleborn with her name suddenly popping up. But the Weasley family was part of the Sacred Twenty-eight, and were too distinctive and well-known. And the Lovegoods, while not as famous, were still a known pure blood family, and her family would ask awkward questions, if nothing else. They would need good aliases.

"That could work." Augusta finally said. "We need to forge some documentation for their travels, but Lord Greengrass and that Fletcher mongrel can take care of those."

"Except for one thing." Neville brought up. "I'm not all that powerful."

"Nev, you managed a partial Patronus," Ron said. "Half the wizarding world can't manage even that. If that doesn't say you're powerful, then I'm Draco Malfoy."

"I didn't manage a full one." Neville persisted. "What good would I be at any of it? You're all much stronger than I'll ever be."

"Come on, Neville." Hermione said. "You're not that bad. I have trouble with it, too. And you were one of the fastest to progress in the DA."

"But-"

"Neville." Harry interrupted. "Why don't we go to Diagon Alley later, and get you your own wand? You said it yourself you're using your father's wand, and it is often said the wand chooses the wizard. It might be you're far more powerful than you know, but you were just being held back by your wand."

The elder Longbottoms shared concerned looks, but Neville looked at Harry hopefully. "Really?"

"It's worth a try. And at the very least you won't have to use that hag's wand." He pointed to the slightly curved wand Neville had won from Bellatrix Lestrange that Neville had in his pocket. Neville nodded and smiled.

"Yeah. It'll be a mantle piece if nothing else. A trophy saying we give as well as we take."

"That's the spirit!" Ron said, clasping Neville at the shoulder and grinning.

"It should have a title, too," Sirius smirked, before raising his arms as if unveiling a large nameplate. "'Wand confiscated by Neville Longbottom, Slayer of the Lestranges'. The kids will love it."

Harry enjoyed the sight, as everyone visibly relaxed after the emotional introduction and how they would handle Neville's presence. Frank, Neville, Ron and the Marauders (except for Remus, who was in discussion with Hermione about some new revelations in Arithmancy that came to pass between now and the future) bantered away. The man, who properly introduced himself as Hector Longbottom, worked out with Charlus where Neville would stay. In the end, they settled that for this summer, Neville and his parents would stay with the Potters so the three could get to know each other better, while every other holiday Neville would stay with his grandparents unless he wanted to stay a weekend over. Hector himself would occasionally come over and help Charlus train Neville and the others, so they could actually claim he'd had special training and education. It was by ten o'clock that the large group of Potters, Longbottoms, and their cohorts travelled to the Leaky Cauldron to get to Gringotts.

With a cough, Harry stumbled out of the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron. "I hate Floo travel." He muttered.

"You aren't the only one," Dorea said, as she helped him up and cleaned him with a quick Scourgify. "Part of me is glad Remus and Peter are teaching James and Sirius about the comforts of muggle travel. It's disconcerting to do things magically, and the service you get on muggle cruise ships..."

"It also takes weeks, while a Portkey gets us there in seconds." Fleamont pointed out.

"Details, details." Dorea dismissed with a wave of her hand. "They often say it's the journey that matters the most, not the destination."

"Whoever said that never traveled by apparition," James said, making his way over to them as everyone else gathered and recovered from Floo travel. "Man, that feels weird."

"You're just jealous you're too young to do it yourself." Fleamont grinned. "Or that you can't make portkeys."

"Yeah, rub it in, uncle," James grumbled. Harry smirked, and bumped his father's shoulder. "Cheer up, James. At Gringotts, we'll finally get proof you and mum got together." The smile that immediately grew on his face told him all he needed to know.

They gathered up quite swiftly after that, and made their way to Gringotts as one big group, the adults looking around at the others. It was still a time of war, after all. Even if it was only a war between a corrupt government and bigoted terrorists, and it wasn't safe to stay out in the open for long. The alley wasn't as busy as it had been in Harry's time, and those that were about were, like Harry's group, quick and suspicious of others.

It wasn't long before they arrived back at the large white bank of Gringotts, which hadn't changed at all apparently (or rather, wouldn't change) from the bank Harry knew from his time. There was still the odd rhyme warning people not to steal from the bank, there were still the heavily armed and armoured Goblin guards, and the tellers still worked in full view of the others.

Charlus led the group to one of them, and cleared his throat. "Honoured Goblin. I wish to speak to our group's Account Managers Ironfeet and Griphook, and hire the services of a Pensieve for this consultation." Charlus said in an demanding yet friendly tone. Harry perked up in surprise at the last name. That was also the name of the goblin that had led him to his trust vault.

"Name?" The Goblin asked in a bored tone, not even looking up from his work.

"Baron Charlus Potter." The man answered. "The Goblins know me as their ally 'Scourge'. I hope that rings a bell."

That it did. Every teller in the room fell silent and looked in their direction, even those already helping other wizards and witches. The teller finally looked up, an expression Harry interpreted as surprise adorning his face.

"Baron Potter." The teller said in surprise, confirming Harry's suspicion. He noted the tone also held a modicum of respect. "And lords Potter and Longbottom. What an unexpected honour."

"Indeed it is," Charlus answered. "There has been an unexpected occurrence we need to discuss with our managers. Would you please be so kind as to have people fetched for them?"

"Of course." The goblin nodded, before turning to two of the clerks standing at the wall behind him. "Steeljaw, Tearfang: Fetch account managers Ironfeet and Griphook. Tell them Baron Potter, Lords Potter and Longbottom, and their associates await them in room nine." The goblins spoken to bowed in response, before running down the corridor at the back of the bank. The teller turned back to the group of wizards in front of him. "You and your associates may take a room at the side" as if on command, a section of the wall disappeared, revealing a corridor Harry had never noticed before. "and wait there, Baron Potter. Ironfeet and Griphook will meet you there shortly."

Charlus nodded, and he led Harry and the others to the newly revealed corridor, which led to a large waiting room, with a large table and numerous chairs surrounding it. It was clearly some sort of conference room the goblins sued for meetings with multiple wizards.

"What was that about?" Hermione asked, as soon as the door closed behind them. "You have a nickname the goblins _respect_?"

"And the history books mentioned nothing of you being a bloody _Baron_." Ron said in astonishment. "How the hell did you manage to get that?"

Charlus chuckled, as he beckoned them all to sit down. "I can't tell you the entire story. We have too little time here, and too much other business to handle, so we'll have to wait for it at home, maybe over supper. But back in the day, myself and Sirius' grandfather, Arcturus Black, led a small faction of wizards and witches, loose of the original ministries of magic, that fought extensively against Grindelwald. A faction born, actually, in our friendships in Hogwarts. Much like how James and his Marauders became friends, or you and Harry and the others, Mister Weasley."

"During the war," Hector continued. "one of our missions we stopped a plan of Grindelwald's in the nick of time from destroying a fragile alliance between goblins and wizards, which had suffered extensively due to the most recent goblin war in 1899, and hadn't fully mended since. Every involved member of our faction gained the respect of the goblins after that, and in honour, aside from assuring they all got their Wizengamot seats early once the war was over, they gave each and every one of us a goblin-worthy name."

"As for the Baron title, it was gifted to Charlus and Arcturus for incredible feats of valour and selflessness." Fleamont took over. "The rest of us became Lords, as well as a great sum of galleons as a reward for our dedication to service."

"A reward well-earned, Lord Potter." Harry heard a voice behind him say, and he turned around. A pair of neatly-dressed goblins stood behind him, in front of the doors the group had entered through.

"Account managers Griphook and Ironfeet," Charlus said respectfully. "Thank you for meeting us."

"It is always a pleasure To help your cause, Baron." Griphook answered as he and the other account manager sat in two of the remaining chairs. "Tell me, what can I help you with?"

Charlus grabbed a vial from one of his robes and handed it to Griphook. "It is better if you and the Longbottoms see this memory. You will understand our predicament then."

The goblins nodded and tapped their fingers on the table. Instantly the centre of it deepened, and Harry saw runes appear along the edges of it. He immediately realised it was, in fact, one massive Pensieve. The goblins and four eldest Longbottoms dunked their heads in, observing the memory.

"We prepared the more important memories of the previous night and this morning for them," Charlus explained when Harry saw several others turn to Charlus for an explanation. "We'll need to set up various accounts and trust vaults for each of you, and some of the Goblins might start asking questions when they see new additions to the family tapestries."

Harry and the others all nodded in understanding, and they all patiently waited for the six inside the Pensieve to emerge. They did so after fifteen minutes, each of them looking at Harry and his group with various expressions of interest. The goblins seemed the most intrigued, and they each grabbed a thick folder from their coat pockets.

"I can see you would require some more... Personal attention with this service." Ironfeet said delicately, and Harry recognised him as the first one who spoke. "What can Gringotts provide for you?"

"Financially, a trust vault for each of them will do for now," Hector answered. "The usual rules: a thousand galleon limit, topped off again at the end of every school year. Longbottom, Lovegood, and Granger will receive it from my accounts, Potter and the Weasleys from the Baron's. You know the deal for the other rules." Both Goblins nodded and jutted it down on a piece of parchment at the start of the folder.

"We also would like your aid in obscuring the tracks of Lovegood and the Weasleys from their respective tapestries. It would be a bit hard to explain to strangers how their son has travelled back in time by a few decades."

"Quite." Griphook agreed. "We can do this, but it's for a price."

"I'll pay it," Fleamont said immediately. "I'm forced to travel back to the MACUSA in a few days, so I can't help out much. The least I can do is pay your for helping us obscure the tracks."

Griphook nodded and jutted it down. "Is at all?"

"No," Charlus said. "Though it is rather simple and can be done right now. Especially since Fleamont's paying."

"Bloody Scrooge," Fleamont muttered, this time getting a swat from Dorea for his comment.

"Harry here has never had a proper medical check-up before. I'd like to pay your healers to perform one."

Griphook nodded and left the table. He opened the door, leaned out, and spoke to one of the clerks outside. Harry immediately heard him run off, and Griphook returned to his seat at the table. "A healer is being called for as we speak. He should be here shortly."

Charlus nodded. "That's all I can think of, for the moment. Any of you have anything to add?"

"Have _all_ of the newcomers checked up medically," Augusta said immediately. "If time travel harmed them somehow, it would be wise to have them all cleared instead of just one of them."

"A heritage test for all of them might be in order, too," Hector added. "Some of them need to hide from their families, and we might find them a different family name they're related to."

No one else brought up anything new, and they all settled to wait for the healer to arrive. The Marauders passed the time by asking the newcomers about the various adventures they'd had, and Harry reluctantly let the others tell the tale, occasionally filling in when the others could not. It was nothing to truly be proud of, after all. He'd killed a man, slain an ancient beast, let a mass-murdering rat escape, and watched the resurrection of a dark lord happen. None of them good subjects to talk about.

Hermione, Ron and the others, however, strongly disagreed, and diverted the focus completely elsewhere. They focused on the 'obstacle course' they'd beaten in his first year, they mentioned it had been a basilisk he's slain (something Harry would have conveniently forgotten to mention), they regaled in the fact he'd managed to drive off a hundred Dementors with a single Patronus, something even the adults were very impressed by.

They were about to mention the Triwizard tournament when the door opened and a Goblin in white and green robes entered.

"I am healer Bloodstain." The grumbly goblin mentioned. "You required my presence, wizards?"

"Yes." Charlus mentioned. "Six full medical check-ups for six human teenagers. Three male, three female." Charlus paused, then added reluctantly "The full package: body, mind, soul and magical core."

Bloodstain nodded and beckoned he six forward. Harry and the others immediately did so. Bloodstain grabbed six pieces of Parchment that Ironfeet offered from his folder, and grabbed six ritual knives from his belt.

"Each of you slice your palm, and let seven drops fall onto the parchment. It will list every injury and ailment your body has suffered. An extremely powerful diagnostic charm, if you will, that also registers past wounds. Only myself, you and those that you share your blood with can read the results."

Harry nodded reluctantly, and slit his palm. After dropping the required seven drops of his blood on the parchment, Dorea cast a quick Episkey, and the cut closed up. The blood diluted on the parchment for a few moments, before forming a list. Harry read it through for a few moments, satisfied Bloodstain was, for the moment at least, distracted by Luna.

 ** _Name: Harrison (Harry) James Potter  
_** ** _Date of Birth: July 31st, 1980  
_** ** _Place of birth: obscured (Cause: Fidelius Charm)  
_** ** _Father: James Charlus Potter  
_** ** _Mother: Lily Jaina Evans_**

 ** _List of Physical Injuries and Ailments suffered (sorted per day inflicted):  
_** ** _Bad eyesight, apparent since birth on July 31st, 1980 (Cause of Injury: Genetical, later remedied by glasses)  
_** ** _Curse wound, inflicted on October 31st, 1981 (Cause of Injury: Killing Curse deflection by Sacrificial-powered shield cast by Lily Jaina Potter Née Evans. After effects: Host of sixth Horcrux of Thomas Marvolo Riddle Junior.)  
_** ** _Minor common cold, contracted on November 1st, 1981 (Cause of Ailment: Left outside at 10 degrees Celcius, remedied by (possibly accidentally) delayed warming charm cast by Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.)  
_** ** _Broken left arm, inflicted on February 15th, 1986 (Cause of Injury: Attack suffered by Dudley Dursley, healed improperly)  
_** ** _Sprained left Wrist, inflicted on March 9th, 1987 (Cause of Injury: Lifting off weight (crate of Alcoholic beverages, ten kilos) wrist could not bear, healed improperly)  
_** ** _Horcrux's instinctive attempt at complete control, inflicted on June 30th, 1992 (Cause of Injury: Extremely close proximity of Wraith of Thomas Marvolo Riddle Junior, overcome by Sacrificial-powered shield cast by Lily Jaina Potter Née Evans)  
_** ** _Broken lower right Arm, later Vanishing of bones lower right arm, inflicted on December 1st, 1992 (Cause of Injury: Cursed Bludger and Vanishing spell cast by Gilderoy Lockhart respectively, remedied by Skele-grow bone-regenerating potion)  
_** ** _Bite wound and poisoning of lower right arm, inflicted on May 29th, 1993 (Cause of Injury: bitten by Basilisk upon its death, remedied by freshly applied Phoenix tears moments later. After effects: Scarred wound, Basilisk Venom and Phoenix tears coursing through blood veins, both too diluted to affect body.)  
_** ** _Cut on upper left arm, inflicted on November 24th, 1994 (Cause of Injury: grazed by spike of Hungarian Horntail, remedied by Witch healing charms, scarred.)  
_** ** _Acromantula bite, Cut on lower left arm, and Cruciatus curse exposure, all inflicted on June 24th, 1995 (Cause of Injuries: bitten by Acromantula, cut in arm by Peter Pettigrew, and cursed by Thomas Marvolo Riddle Junior respectively. Remedied by Phoenix Tears and unnamed and uninvented potion that counter-acts nerve-damage respectively, cut has scarred.)  
_** ** _Carved left hand, inflicted on September 2nd, 1995 (Cause of Injury: Unknown Enchanted Quill charmed to use writer's blood for ink. Side effect: Words written with quill are carved into the hand. After effects: words 'I must tell no lies' permanently carved and scarred on back of left hand.)  
_** ** _Extreme Over exhaustion, caused on June 18th, 1996/July 19th, 1975 (?) (Cause of Injury: Unknown, unstable magic ripping Horcrux from body, and absorption of memories of Tom Marvolo Riddle Junior. After effect: Horcrux removal, new memories temporarily blocked to prevent mental over exhaustion, (unexplainable: permanent ability of Parseltongue))_**

Harry sat down for a moment, staring at the start and ending of the list in shock. A Horcrux?! All of his life, he had been a Horcrux?! All of when he could remember, he had carried a piece of VOLDEMORT in his head?! It was too difficult for him to process for the moment. Charlus and Dorea walked over in concern, but before they could even speak he handed them the results of the test to see which injuries he'd suffered, and which still needed treatment. He looked down at the reflective surface of his Pensieve, staring at his scar. He'd been too dazed with sleep in the morning to notice, but he could now clearly see that his scar had faded a lot since he'd last looked at it.

A Horcrux had been in there.

It did make sense, in a twisted and disturbing sort of way. No one in his family could speak Parseltongue, so it had to come from somewhere. A Horcrux made perfect sense. It also explained why he could sometimes see in Voldemort's mind. If Dumbledore hadn't been so focused on-

 _When he died, I do not know how, I believe he passed some of his powers on to you, Harry_

The words echoed through his mind. The words echoed through Harry's mind. The words Dumbledore told him at the end of his second year, when he just came back to the man after defeating the basilisk and rescuing Ginny.

He knew.

That bastard _KNEW!_

He knew why he really could speak Parseltongue, or why he had nightmares when he could see into Voldemort's mind. He knew that a part of that wretched man lived inside him. And he never bothered to tell him.

"Harry?"

He broke from his destructive thoughts, looking into the concerned eyes of Dorea Potter. The results of his test in hand. Well, the remains of them. It had been ripped in two in anger.

"I'll make it through the day." He said honestly. And he knew he would. He needed answers on what else had been done to him, and they needed to work out the remainder of the details of their aliases for Ginny, Luna, and Ron. And they still had a lot of work to do here in Gringotts. But after all that? Yeah, he'd loose it. After explaining it all to the others of course. After all, they'd been through with him... Hell, he'd mostly ignored Neville until the fourth year and the man still followed him into the snake's nest. They all deserved to know the full truth.

Concerning him. Concerning Voldemort. And concerning Dumbledore.

"Well, most of you are in fine order." Bloodstain finally said. "Mister Potter has suffered the most injuries by far."

"Oh, really? I never would have guessed." Ron said sarcastically, making some of the others snicker while those not in the know of all he has done in his life look at Harry in concern.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed, shutting him up.

"He has no injuries or ailments that can't be helped, but he is rather bleak, scrawny and underweight. I recommend both nutrient potions and an exercise regime to build his body back up to what are proper specifications for his age."

Harry nodded in agreement. Now that he had a proper look at his father, he knew being scrawny wasn't entirely his fault. His father was just as short, and on the thin side as well. But he was by far the thinnest of them all, and he did look rather peaky most of the time. Starting to exercise would likely do him some good, especially if he looked at his grandfather and granduncle.

"Oh, don't worry," Fleamont said with glee, slightly worrying Harry. "We'll keep him on that. Anything else of note physically?"

"No." Bloodstain growled. "Now, on to the mental part. Mister Potter, please step forward." Harry reluctantly did so. He didn't look forward to this one bit, especially after the revelations of the physical examination. But he knew he might get answers from the Goblin he desperately needed. Especially since Dumbledore rarely deigned to give them.

Immediately, he felt a light pressure in his head as soon as he stared at the goblin. A form of Legillimency, he immediately realised, and he tried to resist it on instinct. After having both Snape and Voldemort read his mind so easily, he hated knowing he wasn't alone in his head. But before he could do anything, the pressure lifted, and the Goblin stared at him with raised eyebrows.

"Very interesting, Mister Potter." The Goblin said with much more interest than when he first arrived. "You have a natural affinity for Occlumency, though your ability has been suppressed unconsciously when someone tried to force that ability to the surface the wrong way quite recently. Aside from that, you're now also a natural Parselmouth. other than that, no mental disorders."

"You sure?" Harry asked, slightly surprised. He wasn't shocked by the fact Snape's 'teaching' of Occlumency could have ruined any talent he had for Occlumency. But aside from that, there was really nothing wrong with him? _Nothing_?

"Yeah." Ron agreed. "We figured he'd be mental with how often he gets us into trouble."

"No." The Goblin said. "He is indeed reckless, stubborn, and suffers from a habit of heroism. But that isn't too out of the ordinary for wizards. Aside from my aforementioned points, he is mentally in fine order."

"Can his Occlumency be brought to the surface?" Dorea asked. "Because I can speak from experience it is an incredibly handy skill to possess."

"Yes. Simple, proper education of Occlumency should help bring it back to the surface." Bloodstain answered. "Unless any of you have more questions" none spoke a word. "then I would like to have miss Lovegood step forward."

Harry nodded and stepped back to sit down in his chair again. Hell, he had a natural affinity for Occlumency. And Snape had managed to ruin it. _Again_. Why was he even surprised at this point? The man hated him with a passion for what James and the others had done to him at Hogwarts, and he would take any opportunity to take his hatred out on Harry.

"My, oh my." The Goblin spoke, making Harry look up. The goblin was staring at Luna with amazement, while the girl still wore her usual dreamy expression. "That is the most unusual, and yet the most impregnable form of Occlumency I have ever encountered, Miss Lovegood. A mind so chaotic no outsider could ever find a specific memory in there, much less pull it to the surface. How did you accomplish this?"

"My mother loved to experiment with and create spells," Luna answered. "And she was quite good at it, even creating a new version of the Fidelius. But one day, when I was nine, a spell she was working on backfired spectacularly, and she died. The spell itself still worked, however, as you can see the result here." She pointed at her head. The only sign Harry could see she was still saddened by her mother's death was that there was a single tear falling from her eye. But she still wore her dreamy expression, and still walked with the usual skip in her steps as she made her way back to her own chair. The goblin stared at her for a moment before muttering 'blasted humans' or some such thing and calling Ginny forward.

Harry stared at her for a few moments, feeling a bit of pity for her. He never knew she'd lost her mother, never mind that she had seen it happen in front of her very eyes. It did explain why, like him and Neville, she could see the Thestrals. He made a note to himself to talk to her about it later.

"Well, Miss Weasley, aside from also possessing the skill of a Parselmouth left over from that diary's possession, even if it is also repressed, you are also in fine mental order, if rather mature for your age," Bloodstain announced. "Mister Weasley, step forward."

Ginny stood ramrod straight for a few moments in shock and had to be guided back to her seat by Luna as she sat down. And Harry couldn't blame her. Most wizards, and most of the Weasleys especially, still believed in the superstitions of the Wizarding world. And while Harry had proven himself to be the counter of the one concerning Parselmouths being dark wizards, they considered him the exception, rather than the rule. It was something he knew would be a shock to hear for her.

"Mister Weasley, you are the first one today who is completely in mental order with no unusual skills or powers." Bloodstain completed his medical examination. "Miss Granger, your turn."

It was likely something else Dumbledore had looked over if his guess about the diary is actually correct. If it was, it meant Ginny had briefly been possessed by a Horcrux herself, and that no one had ever properly taken a look at her. How many mistakes had Dumbledore really made here? _Were_ they really mistakes? The more Harry thought about it, the more he realised Dumbledore had done a lot of questionable things.

He had evidence Hagrid was innocent about the Chamber Incidents, or at least put his guilt in question. And yet he never pressed the ministers at the time to clear him entirely and allow him to resume his magical education. He knew about the fact Sirius was innocent, and yet never in those thirteen years chose to reveal it. Or even if he hadn't known and just presumed, he never bothered to read his parents' will to check for sure. Or the Tournament, where he had also done nothing aside from taking pity on him and say he had to complete it. Did he not put security charms on it or something, to ensure it wasn't tempered with? Besides that, he also ignored all the oddities of the Moody imposter, dismissing them as character eccentrics of a mad old friend.

"Aside from the fact your mind's commendably ordered, Miss Granger, you also have no oddities." Bloodstain announced. "It's your turn now, Mister Longbottom."

And not to mention Harry's fifth year. Dumbledore practically ignored Harry all year, not even deigning so much as to look Harry in the eye. Even when the headmaster vouched for Harry at the trial and brought Arabella Fig as a witness, he never even looked at Harry and left without even speaking to him. And when he had the nightmare about Ron's father being attacked, you'd think he might take interest in what was going on. But oh no. Even then, the headmaster did not so much as look at Harry while he interrogated him, preferring to toy with his collection of odd instruments arrayed around the room. And when it became evident Harry needed Occlumency, he had _Snape_ of all people teach him, when he knew the man loathed Potter to a fault. Either the man wanted Harry unprepared and had a masterplan, or he was barmy enough to warrant being suspended from each and every post he holds.

Harry didn't know which one he feared more.

"Well, Mister Longbottom, you are also in good order." Bloodstain finished. "Now, the third part and final part of the examination: soul and magical core. Mister Potter, Miss Weasley, you both deserve a fair warning. Considering your history with _you-know-what_ , your results will be _interesting_ , to say the least."

The five others who took the examination with him stared at him in confusion, Ginny, and Hermione most of all. The others were too far back for Harry to see without turning his head. Harry, however, just nodded. He knew that with what the Horcrux had done to him, there might be a number of surprise reveals when it came to his soul or his magical core.

"I know." He finally said, before stepping forward. "I'll start."

"Never had one of these examinations before, had you boy?" The goblin asked knowingly. When Harry nodded, a smirk the size of the Durmstrang ship appeared on his face, as he searched his pouch and got out six red-black stones the size of Harry's fist, and an equal number of quills. "Oh, this will be interesting. Yes, very interesting."

"Why?" Harry asked with a small amount of trepidation. Harry had learned from his friends that Goblins liked only three things: 1. To have as much control of gold, jewelry and precious metals as they could. 2. To lead a warrior life as much as they could, an explanation for a large amount of goblin wars. Hell, there were at least ten in the last three hundred years, the last one a bare two years before Grindelwald made his bid for power in Europe. It was a miracle there hadn't broken out another one since with all the disorder Voldemort has caused.

And number 2. Led to number 3.: to discomfort and hurt any wizard they didn't respect as much as possible.

"You'll feel soon enough." Bloodstain said, his smirk still ever present. "Simply place your hand on the stone, and grasp it entirely. It is that simple."

Harry nodded and reluctantly grabbed the stone. He immediately dropped it in pain, as the stone instantly heated up in his hand. The red light on the stone pulsates for a few moments before the quill started writing on a piece of Parchment Harry hadn't noticed appear. Harry peaked over to read it, despite still clutching his burning hand. At least it felt that way.

"Bloody hell." He softly cursed, both because of the pain, and because of what he read.

 ** _Status of Soul, Magical Core, and Magical Abilities of Harrison (Harry) James Potter:_**

 ** _Soul:  
_** ** _No bond established  
_** ** _Complete soul  
_** ** _Slight taint of dark magic (Suspected origin: unstable Horcrux formerly in the body. Taint slowly cleansing away since removal.)  
_**

 ** _Magical Core:  
_** ** _Nearing Magical maturity, expecting it to be reached in 13 days.  
_** ** _Previously locked down and drained to 10% of supposed level (Suspected origin: unstable Horcrux formerly in body. Core overcompensating since Horcrux removal, and reaching magical Maturity prematurely due to this.)  
_** ** _Magical power level once maturity's reached: Extremely Powerful*_**

 ** _Magical Abilities:  
_** ** _Natural Strong Affinity for Transfiguration (Enhanced to Powerful level by Genetical affinity, paternal side, previously drained to half of potential by Horcrux, now restored to full potential)  
_** ** _-Animagus potential (Previously blocked by Horcrux, now unblocked)  
_** ** _Natural Strong Affinity for Charms (Enhanced to Very Powerful level by Genetical affinity, Maternal side, previously drained to three quarter of potential by Horcrux, now restored to full potential)  
_** ** _-Strong Affinity for elemental magics Fire and Water (Previously drained to point of no outstanding affinity by Horcrux, now restored to full potential)  
_** ** _Strong Affinity for (Defense against the) Dark Arts (Permanently amplified to Very Powerful level due to Horcrux)  
_** ** _Parseltongue Fluency (Acquired through Horcrux, made permanent and Genetically inherent since, and resists Horcrux removal)  
_** ** _Strong Affinity for Occlumency (Previously drained to point of no outstanding affinity by Horcrux, now restored to full potential)  
_** ** _Above Average affinity for Healing Magic (Previously drained to point of no outstanding affinity by Horcrux, now restored to full potential)  
_** ** _Powerful Affinity for Wandless Magic (Previously drained to point of no outstanding affinity by Horcrux, now restored to full potential)  
_** ** _Powerful Affinity for Nonverbal Magic (Previously blocked by Horcrux, now unblocked)_**

"Amazing." Harry muttered, looking through the list again, simply because he couldn't believe what he read. Not only wasn't his soul entirely tainted by the Horcrux, but it was receding incredibly fast. And while he didn't know anything about magical maturity (he'd seen it mentioned a few times in the books on magical theory, but it was never fully explained), he had a sense it was a very important thing for his development. And was he really that good in all of the mentioned magical talents? He'd always had trouble performing the spells first time around, and it took him a while to get the hang of things. But he had to admit that when he did get the hang of it, his spells were among the strongest of both his own year group, and sometimes in the one above it as well.

"Harry?" Hermione asked in concern, and he saw the others look over with frowns on their faces as well. He handed his results over again, smirking as he did. "It's good news this time around." He promised. "Let's just say our story about me getting taught on the mainland due to my magical power might actually work out very well."

Hermione nodded as she read it over, subconsciously moving around the room as she did until Dorea and Fleamont stopped her so they could read over her shoulder. Fleamont's mouth actually dropped a bit as he read it.

"By Godric's beard." He said in shock, before turning to Harry. "Early Magical maturity? Affinity for elemental magics? Wandless affinity? How are you not the most powerful wizard of your generation?"

"He's that good?" Hector asked curiously, looking up from Neville's results. From the excited looks on Augusta and Frank's faces, they had to be really good results.

Fleamont merely gave it to the goblin Ironfeet, who lay it flat on the Pensieve upside down. Immediately, it projected the results on the back wall for everyone to read.

"Bloody hell!" Ron yelled, ignoring Hermione's instinctive reprisal about his language.

"Do you realise what this means, Harry?" Remus asked, and Harry had almost forgotten the Marauders had all come along as well, with their silence since the examination had started. "You are as powerful as Dumbledore himself. Hell, you're just as powerful as _You-Know-Who_. The only ones more powerful than you History has ever witnessed are the Founders, and Merlin, and Morgana le Fay, and people of their caliber."

"What?" Harry asked, astonished. That's impossible. He couldn't be that powerful. That was just... it shouldn't be that he was almost as powerful as the Founders. That should be downright impossible. "I can't be that powerful. I always have trouble performing spells right, it nearly cost me my life to perform a Patronus in front of so many Dementors."

"And yet when you do manage, mate, you have to admit your spells are always the most powerful." Ron countered. "Even Malfoy couldn't deny that. Why do you think he always picked on you every time you showed even the slightest hint of weakness or pestered you about your family and lack of knowledge when you didn't? He was bloody jealous because of how weak he seemed compared to you."

"And you can't deny you're powerful, mate," Neville said. "Come on, you managed a corporeal Patronus, something only one in a thousand people will ever manage. It was strong enough to drive away a hundred Dementors. You really think you're not that powerful?"

"And you're actually near his level, son," Frank said proudly, showing Harry a copy of Neville's results while Bloodstain managed to distract his friends by pointing out the remaining four hadn't done the test yet themselves. Harry whistled appreciatively. While he was still more powerful than Neville, the boy came pretty close on many fronts, and actually one upped him in elemental magics, having a Very Strong affinity for fire, water, and Earth, while Harry's was only Strong. To his pleasant surprise, Neville also had the potential to become an Animagus, and the required strength in Transfiguration to do so.

"Wow," Ron said, grabbing is and Hermione's shoulder. "Look at that. We can all become Animagi. How awesome is that?"

"Really? Charlus asked, and Harry noticed the Marauders practically hang on his lips in poorly disguised interest. Together, he and Harry took glances at the respective results of the others. While none of them came as close in levels of power as Neville did, it did show that they all had their respective talents they excelled at. For example, Luna seemed to possess a natural affinity for Charms along with Hermione, while Ron excelled apparently in Transfiguration and Healing magic. Ginny, lastly, had just as strong an aptitude for DADA as him but didn't excel like him in everyone else along with it.

"We can't reveal the secret results to the Ministry," Charlus said finally. "Bagnold would ask too many questions, and Crouch would have our heads for hiding him as long as we did. We reveal Neville and Harry were sent away for their power levels, but nothing about the details, understand?"

Harry nodded. He knew all too well how the ministry had a history of interfering in matters it had absolutely no say in, and it was likely to be riddled with Death Eater infiltrators. If they caught wind of the details, their heads would be before Voldemort by he end of the week. The others followed his example and agreed with that part.

"I'll hide the results in their respective vaults." Griphook allowed. "Only you would have access to them, and nothing short of Gringotts being destroyed would allow the wizards to get them without our permission."

"Also, we still have inheritance tests to go through," Ironfeet added. "Would you like to take them now, or have you had enough shocks for today?"

"Let's get it all over with," Dorea said immediately. "The sooner we get all this over with, the better. The financial situation might not be up to date, or which houses they are descended off or betrothed into. But it might give us an idea for aliases and cover stories."

Ironfeet nodded, and he grabbed more empty pieces of parchment from his folder (really, how much did that blasted thing carry?), laying it on the table in front of each of them. He also grabbed a number of familiar looking quills from his coat. Quills that immediately made Harry shudder for a few moments.

"These are experimental quills known as Blood Quills," Ironfeet explained to the others. "Not known to the ministry records or the Wizarding world at large because we are still developing them. These are the safer ones."

"Safer ones?" Augusta asked skeptically. "You're not endangering our heirs and their allies, are you?"

"I assure you Madam Longbottom, I will do no such thing," Ironfeet explained to the others. "These quills write with the subject's blood, and that blood will show what inheritance they have access to. As you said earlier, it might show something different from what you read earlier, as you only have the galleons you carry in your pocket, for example. But your descendants will still be the same."

Ironfeet placed a quill and parchment in front of each of them. Harry gripped his reluctantly, while the others started writing immediately, hissing afterward as the words briefly appeared on their skin before fading away. Harry wanted to vomit at it all. These would eventually become the hated black quills Umbridge had him write with, and which had permanently scarred his hand.

But he needed to know. No one had ever told him about his family, or who his ancestors really were, and with the recent revelations about himself, he knew he wanted answers.

With a new determination, he picked up the quill and wrote _Harry James Potter_ at the top, ignoring the stinging the quill gave him in his left hand, right where the scars used to be.

The blood and words immediately into the parchment, only to reappear and form even more words below.

 ** _Harrison (Harry) James Potter  
_** ** _Father: James Charlus Potter  
_** ** _Mother: Lily Jaina Evans_**

 ** _Current financial worth:  
_** ** _3 Sickles and 1 Knut (Liquid)  
_** ** _230.528 Galleons (Worth of all items and artefacts carried on body)_**

 ** _Descended directly from the following houses:  
_** ** _Potter, through Father James Charlus Potter  
_** ** _Evans (muggle family), through Mother Lily Jaina Evans  
_** ** _Black, through Paternal Grandmother Dorea Ursula Black  
_** ** _Turner (muggle family), through Maternal Grandfather Alexander Turner  
_** ** _Gryffindor, through marriage of Paternal Ancestors Henry Potter and Irena Gryffindor (approx. 1460)  
_** ** _Slytherin, through marriage of Paternal Ancestors Shezar Slytherin and Cassandra Potter (approx. 1650)  
_** ** _Peverell, through marriage of Paternal Ancestors Hardwin Potter and Iolanthe Peverell (approx. 1790)  
_** ** _Swann (muggle family), through marriage of Maternal Ancestors William Turner and Elizabeth Swann (approx. 1710)  
_** ** _Bay (muggle family), through marriage of Maternal Ancestors Ardeth Bay and Maria Evans (1899)_**

 ** _Related to following houses (last three generations and magical families only):  
_** ** _Blishwick (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Bulstrode (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Burke (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Crabbe (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Crouch (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Flint (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Fortescue (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Gamp (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Gaunt (through the House of Peverell)  
_** ** _Hitchens (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Lestrange (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Longbottom (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Macmillan (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Malfoy (through the House of Black)  
Max (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Meliflua (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Montgomery (through the House of Potter)  
_** ** _Prewett (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Rosier (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Tonks (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Weasley (through the House of Black)  
_** ** _Yaxley (through the House of Black)_**

Well, it confirmed the long-standing rumour his family was descended from Godric Gryffindor, though him actually being related to Slytherin was an actual surprise. Maybe there was some truth to him being the heir of Slytherin after all, if he could destroy Voldemort once and for all. He had no idea who some of he other families were, but he knew it wasn't hard to look up. While it was harder for them, Muggles could keep track of their ancestors just as often as wizards, and kept excellent records. The 'Internet' he had recently learned of from Dudley seemed capable of doing just that.

He peaked over to Ron and Hermione's results, who stood next to him on both sides. Ron had actually a little more money in his pockets than Harry did, but he didn't have anything of such extreme value, like Harry's extremely rare and long-lasting invisibility cloak. Aside from that, he was descended from only three families directly (the Weasley family, the Prewett family, and the Blacks as well), but related to dozens more due to the Black family's tendency to breed only with other purebloods.

Hermione, meanwhile, was only related to muggle families, through her mother and father (Emma Beckett and Daniel Granger) there wasn't a trace of magical blood to be found. Interestingly, she was stated to be worth much more than Ron and Harry combined. He wondered how that was possible, and whether she carried some magical artefact they didn't know about.

"Well?" Dorea asked curiously. Harry, once again, handed her the results to look through.

"I'm not actually surprised by this." She said after a few seconds. "The Blacks interbred so often with other pureblood families I'm surprised they haven't bred the magic out of themselves yet. I'm surprised about the Slytherin and Peverell heritage, though. _Charlus_ never said a thing about it."

"It's not something we scream from the rooftops, is it?" Charlus countered, though there was no bite or vehemence in his tone. "Look at how people flock to You-Know-Who's cause because he's the Heir of Slytherin. Do you really think he would react well if another family just popped up filled with other people related to him? A family with goals directly opposite of his own?"

"We'd be hunted down and slaughtered," Fleamont added. "Especially with the Peverell lineage mixed in. If he learned of that, we would be done for."

"I can see that," Euphemia admitted. "But I thought Dorea and I at least deserved to be told, dear husbands of ours." She finished wickedly and amusedly. For their parts, Charlus and Fleamont did look sheepish at that one.

"That part, admittedly, is because we simply forgot to broach it," Charlus admitted with a slight blush. "It never came up, and I didn't think it was significant enough to be told in such a manner."

"Oh, I don't know," Dorea said. "The fact you're related to two of the four founders, two of the most antagonistic ones, no less, is worthy enough of a conversation of its own, don't you agree?"

Harry snickered, as he watched the Potter males be chastised in such a manner, and he heard loud laughter behind him indicating at least the Marauders and Frank thought it hilarious as well. For Harry, it simply provided the much-needed levity his mood needed after the extreme revelations he just got. Besides, seeing the two Potter males, who had seemed so fearsome and terrifying when Harry had first met them and fought aside them last night, was truly something to remember.

"Mate," Ron whispered, as to not break up the comedy show in front of them. "If we're related to Slytherin through you, as well as Gryffindor, wouldn't we technically be able to own Hogwarts?"

"Ron!" Hermione whispered just as silently, a twitch on the corner of her lips showing she found the display just as hilarious, en if she didn't show it. "We aren't going to brag around you're all related to the founders!"

"Come on, Hermione." Ron pleaded. "Think of all the books we could buy for you!"

"You're just thinking of living lazily in the castle for the rest of your life!"

"I do not!"

"Does this happen often?" Sirius asked in obvious interest, a smirk on his face. Harry nodded knowingly.

"All the time. Neville and I used to bet on who quit first, but he stopped when I kept winning."

"You kept cheating and ending it for them." Neville accused.

"As I will now," Harry said. "Or we'll be here forever. Ron!" The redhead and bushy-haired girl both turned. "If you do proclaim yourself related to a founder like that, you'll imitate someone we know very well." He mimicked dragging his hand through his hair and styling it, took on a very arrogant pose, before saying in a very haughty voice. "Wait till my father heads about this!"

Neville lost it at that one, collapsing on the ground holding his sides in laughter and Ginny snickering away. Ron's face whitened in horror when he realised who he'd almost mimicked, and Hermione looked at him with satisfaction at having won this one.

Harry couldn't hold it in any longer, and he doubled over in laughter as well at Ron's expression. This set off the Marauders in turn, with Sirius dragging Luna, Frank, and Alice with him to the ground by accident, and they were all around the table laughing themselves silly. When the Goblins and Longbottoms finally stopped watching the Potters being chastised for hiding their Slytherin and Peverell heritage and the artefacts they inherited because of it, they found themselves at the sight of a dozen laughing teenagers.

"And a merry life to you, too." Hector Longbottom said.

* * *

Their business at Gringotts was finished up after that, and their alibis were soon established with the help of Gringotts: while the four others all kept their first names, Ron and Ginny would change their Surname to Beckett, the maiden name of Hermione's mother, and proclaim themselves to be raised as secluded half bloods. Thanks to Arthur, they knew enough about the muggle world to pull it off, even if they needed a bit of help from Hermione. They decided to leave as much of their family and odd history in secret, so that if they slipped up once or twice, they could simply claim it was a long time ago. Hermione would simply change her own name to Harry's ancestor Bay. While her own name was common enough that people wouldn't look odd at it in the magical world, she herself would still appear in the magical world again in a little under two decades, and it would be suspicious if she found someone sharing her exact same name and appearance.

Luna, meanwhile, would take on the name of Swann, and claim to be a half blood from overseas. It helped her that her mother was a muggleborn as well, despite her eccentric first name. She still took a few of those sessions of help from Hermione alongside Ron and Ginny, bit that was more to refresh her memory than anything else. She also performed a charm that helped the Weasleys hide their features, which would usually have identified them as members of their family even if they claimed different names: the new version of the Fidelius she'd mentioned earlier, Fidelius Mutatio. In effect, it worked nearly the same as the original Fidelius, but instead of hiding the secret, it permanently altered the person's appearance to those not in on the secret. Luna had kept it simple, and simply tanned their skin a bit so they matched Hermione's, and gave them both auburn hair, with Harry becoming the Secret Keeper since he was the least likely to slip up of the six of them.

They also decided they would all attend Hogwarts in the same year. Ginny and Luna knew enough for DADA from their classes with Lupin and Moody, and would be able to attend their fifth years, while Harry, Neville, a reluctant Ron, and Hermione had no problem repeating their OWL year, especially with how terrible their Defense classes were in retrospect. True, they had Harry's DA, but it hadn't covered the entire year, and Harry didn't know everything. It would be good to have a proper teacher for their OWL year, and splitting the group up for no reason would just be problematic.

They all paid for the services of Griphook and Ironfeet, who promised to have their trust vaults set up under the proper names, and left the bank to do their shopping. Not for their school shopping, however. The list was still a week away from being delivered. No, it was for their own possessions. Aside from what they carried on their backs, the six time travellers owned nothing in this world. No brooms, no books, no bags, nothing. So they were all given a budget of 600 galleons while they shopped a bit for themselves: Augusta, Dorea, Euphemia, Alice, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna went as one group to do the girls' shopping, while everyone else went with the boys to do their stuff. In addition to that, outside of the budget, Hector and Fleamont also bought them one broom each, so they could play in the House Teams at Hogwarts if they wanted to. And to Ron and Neville's astonishment, they could have the pick of the lot. Harry himself chose a Thunderbird-class broom, the predecessor of his old Firebolt.

And so they went down the alley, picking up posters for Ron, Herbology equipment for Neville, a number of Defense books and trinkets for Harry, and a pet for all of them. Neville easily found his way back to Trevor the toad, and Ron picked a large owl that liked him on sight, even landing on his friend's shoulders. Harry, however, took the longest to pick a pet. While he knew it was essential for him to have an owl for mail, he still had a spot for Hedwig in his heart. After Hagrid, she had been his first friend in the magical world and had often been the only one he could talk to back at the Dursleys.

"Hoot!"

Harry looked up in shock. He knew that hoot anywhere. Sure enough, through the large open window above the store's door, his trusty owl flew in, instantly landing on his shoulder and affectionately nibbling at his ear.

"Hedwig!" He said happily. "How did you get here? I thought you were back at Hogwarts when it all happened!"

In response, Hedwig shook her wings a bit, and Harry saw a bit of sand fly out of her feathers. And judging by the way it floated in the air afterward before disappearing, _Magical sand._

"You followed us to the ministry?" He realised. "And when you were inside and tried to reach us, you were caught in the sand, too?! Why?"

Hedwig hooted in an affirmative tone... and immediately clipped him over the head with her wing. Harry laughed, at least until she tried to do so again.

"I know, I know." He said as he ducked underneath. "It was reckless and stupid. But I thought Sirius was in danger."

She merely tilted her head as if _Yeah, and that warrants risking your own life?_

"Don't look at me like that, you know how much I care for him." Harry admonished, though the smile never left his face. "It's good to have you back, Hedwig."

Hedwig hooted happily, before taking a more comfortable position in the crook of his neck and sitting down. Harry smirked, as he bought the usual items needed for owning an owl (a cage, food, treats and the like) and left the shop behind. He headed to the others, who were waiting by Ollivander's while Neville got his own wand.

"There you are, mate!" Ron called. "We were almos- Is that Hedwig?!"

"Yep." Harry answered, and the snowy owl immediately flew over and gave Ron an affectionate nib on the ear. "She followed us to the ministry that night, and got caught in that sand just like us."

"A very trusty owl." Charlus complimented. "I think I like her."

"I don't," Fleamont said, edging a bit away from Hedwig. "Never liked owls since you set Mousehound on me. Bloody terrifying those things are."

Hedwig glared, and took off from Ron's shoulder, hovering over Fleamont. The Potter Potioneer looked upwards suspiciously... and was rewarded with owl droppings landing on his glasses and face. Hedwig swooped down, clipped him once again over the back of his head, upsetting his hair and getting most of it into the droppings as well, before moving to land on Harry's shoulder protectively. Charlus laughed outright at the sight of his younger brother covered in owl droppings as he stood frozen.

Laughter behind them indicated the Longbottoms and the Marauders had come back out themselves and had seen the sight too. "It fits you, uncle." James said. "Really fits the Potter look."

"The only thing missing is the nest and eggs." Sirius snickered. "And you'd attract owls from across the world."

Fleamont glared at them as he cleaned his glasses. "I think I'll join up with the girls." He said, marching away. "They won't make fun of my _predicament._ " With that, he stalked over to Flourish and Blott's, where he saw Hermione's bushy hair enter.

"What's up with him?" Neville asked curiously.

"Ignore him." Charlus advised. "When we were younger, I locked him in our Owlery sprayed in a love potion brewed especially for owls during our owl's mating season. He's never liked owls since."

"Really?" Harry asked in shock. His grandfather was downright intimidating. True, he and Harry shared many facial features (messy Raven hair and round glasses among them), but he seemed more like a guy who took on ten Death Eaters on his own for a lunch break, with his intimidating robes and tall, imposing stature. Not one to... _Prank_.

"What?" Charlus asked. "You didn't really think James got his pranking blood from his mother, did you?"

Then again, the man had a point. Dorea was far too kind to pull the kind of pranks his father did, so James had to get it from his father.

The next part, however, Harry didn't like at all. Especially with how jovially Sirius was skipping towards the clothing shops, Madam Malkin's, and Twilfitt and Tatting's.

"Oh, no." He muttered as he and Ron looked on in horror, while Neville only looked slightly nervous.

"Oh, yes." Charlus insisted. "You are a Potter. I will not have a potential heir of my house dressed in hand-me-down clothes several sizes too big for him. You need formal clothes, Hogwarts uniforms, clothes of your own choice, not to mention dress robes..." Harry's eyes widened in horror, as Charlus continued to list the various articles of clothing Harry needed to buy. Did they really have to do all this? They would be here hours for him alone, not to mention for Neville and Ron.

"You better do it, kid." Charlus frowned, seeing his look. "Or so help me, I'll body-bind you, have Madam Malkin take your measurements, and let Sirius pick your clothes for you."

Faced with that kind of threat and blackmail, especially with how gleeful Sirius looked at the idea, Harry let out a resigned sigh and followed the others into the store. Fortunately, aside from his present company and Madam Malkin, the store was empty. The lady immediately stepped forward, greeting them enthusiastically.

"Baron Potter! A surprise to see you here again! And Lord Longbottom, too! I thought you permanently moved to my friends at Twillfitt and Tatting's!"

"No, we haven't," Charlus reassured her in a pleasant tone. "While Tatting's is indeed more suited for the formal wear I'm forced to wear at the endless parties and Wizengamot meetings, _your_ store will always have the lead in comfortable clothing."

"Such a charmer. If I didn't know better and see the wedding ring, I'd think you were flirting with me." Malkin giggled, surprising Harry. While she was indeed a bit younger, she was also behaving a lot less professional than he expected from the woman he'd met in 1991.

"-weren't for the fact I met Dorea years ago." Charlus continued, and Harry realised they were still talking. "But I'm not here for myself today. Hector and I are here for these three boys." Hector gave them a light shove to step forward. "Our sons Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, and their friend Ronald Beckett."

"Just Ron, please," Ron muttered with a slight blush. Harry couldn't blame him. While Harry wasn't attracted to her or distracted by it, she was pretty enough in this time to give Fleur Delacour a run for her money, and she was a Veela.

"Oh!" Madam Malkin said in surprise. "I didn't know the two of you had more than one son."

"Our respective family secrets, I'm afraid," Hector explained. "We discovered at a very young age that Neville and Harry were very powerful, magically speaking, and we sent them to the Continent for special tutoring."

"And you brought them back home because of the situation with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named." Malkin finished for them. "I understand. Well, it is a great pleasure to meet you, boys. What do you need?"

"Everything, basically." Charlus answered for them. "Their boat was attacked before they could make it to shore, and they were forced to portkey here while leaving all of their stuff behind."

"Oh dear." She said, although there was a gleam in her eyes. "So they'll need an entirely new wardrobe?"

"Yep." Charlus said, popping the P with satisfaction as he watched Harry squirm under that gaze. Malkin immediately lit up.

"Oh, splendid! Come with me, boy. We've got to take measurements, and..."

Harry didn't hear the rest of it, as suddenly the world turned black, and a searing pain hit his forehead again, around where his scar would be. Instead of falling unconscious, however, he saw his surroundings change. Instead, he was in a large hall. It was occupied mostly by pillars with serpents encircling them from the bottom to the top. In the centre back of the hall stood a massive statue of a bearded man with a sword in one hand and a wand in the other, standing elegantly as he gazed down.

Harry recognised the Chamber of Secrets instantly when he saw it.

But this time, it was Tom Riddle standing there, as the same sixteen year old prefect Harry had seen him. The man entered through a second entrance Harry never noticed before: a stone walkway, seemingly keeping itself still and suspended in the air, that stretched above him between the pillars below an arched roof at the height of the statue's head. Shortly before reaching the head it branched off around it, with one way heading to a large circular tunnel that likely led to the sewage pipes the basilisk had used. The other branched off again, one ending into the sewers like the other, the second endive in a spiral staircase that headed to the ground floor. Riddle spoke as he walked down the stairs.

" _You need to be more careful, Sheesa._ " Riddle hissed, and Harry realised it was in Parseltongue. To his dismay, the mouth of the statue opened, and the Basilisk, Sheesa, slowly slithered out. " _I cannot protect you forever. A dozen students already are petrified in the hallways. If one dies, you will be found, and Dippet and Dumbledore will have you killed for what you are._ "

" _Then I will die having served my purpose._ " Sheesa hissed back, timing her descent so both her and Riddle arrived at the bottom of the hall at the same time. " _But it has been so long since I tasted fresh air. One more time, false master. Once more._ "

" _No._ " Riddle hissed angrily. " _I am your_ _ **true**_ _master. And if you die now, you will not be able to complete the task I have assigned you. I want to rid the school of unworthy mud bloods, and you will help me, Sheesa. But you cannot be is obvious. Be more subtle. More cunning. Like a true Slytherin!_ " Riddle paused for a few moments. " _Like your first master_."

The Basilisk paused, as in thought. But then it started hissing in incomprehensible words, and slowly circled Riddle.

" _Did you think my master did not know this day would come,_ ** _Pretender?!_** " The Basilisk hissed angrily. " _That a false heir with only an inkling of his blood would try to claw his way into the deepest recesses of his chambers?!_ "

" _I AM his true Heir!_ " Riddle hissed angrily, holding his wand out, the small shrunken skull Harry had observed on the bottom of his wand at the graveyard already adorning its grip.

" _You are a disgrace!_ " Sheesa hissed back. " _Your connection to my old master is so diluted by Pureblood inbreeding that it is practically nonexistent. Bred out of your line."_ Sheesa reared up angrily. " _And your notions of eradicating all Muggleborns is misguided. A dream of an angry child who has known no love in this world. While it is true my master held no love for Muggleborns, he never wanted them gone. Merely for them to stay away until they knew proper traditions, so they would integrate better into our world._ " Sheesa leaned forward again, looking Riddle dead in the eye, a second opaque eyelid the only thing stopping her gaze from killing Riddle. " _That is why you are not my true master,_ _ **son of Riddle**_ _. You are against everything he stood for."_

Riddle flinched in anger at being reminded of his muggle heritage but didn't move as the King of Serpents moved back into the statue.

" _Sheesa_." Riddle hissed, and the Basilisk turned around.

"Insaniam convertunt!" Riddle shouted, and a grey curse hit the Basilisk. It immediately writhed in pain, although Harry could see no obvious wound.

" _I predicted long before I sought you out that you might not agree with my goals._ " Riddle hissed, as the Snake writhed in obvious agony. " _Which is why I looked up various curses that work very well against the mind. Curses so obscure the Ministry hasn't yet bothered to outlaw them. This is a fun one, Insaniam Convertunt._ " Riddle twirled his wand, as the snake finally calmed. " _It drives the victim insane. Not to the point they lose their minds, however. It merely robs them of their free will and identity. You can still act independently, but you will no longer have any wishes and desires of your own, forever doomed to obey the orders of others. And the only known counter, mens videre receptos, can only be spoken in Parseltongue. So there is no hope you will ever regain your mind, beast._ " Riddle shook his head in mock dismay, as he walked back up the stairs.

" _Such a shame. You were the finest specimen of your kind in known history._ " He pouted, before making his gaze more serious. " _Return to your hibernation inside the statue until I call you again."_

Sheesa nodded, and returned to sleep inside her statue, the mouth closing behind her. Riddle smirked, as he walked back up.

Harry couldn't believe his eyes. The snake he'd fought in his second year, the dreadful thing that still gave him nightmares on some occasions, was actually driven insane, forced to do Riddle's bidding. Harry suddenly felt a large dose of pity wash over him, as he saw Riddle make his way through the other entrance. He walked down a long, thin corridor, which ended in a circular door with stone snakes all coming from the right-hand side, edging out to the rest of the door like a blossoming flower.

Riddle commanded the door to open, and another stone snake emerged, which slithered from the top of the section the snakes came from around their heads, in a counter clockwise fashion. Each time this snake passed one of the others, it pulled back, and a thunk sounded like the lock was being undone. As it completed the circle, the door opened. The shed Basilisk lay in front of it, which was likely what had stopped Harry and Ron from finding it in the first place. Riddle made his way back up the tunnel, and into the pipe that led to Myrtle's bathroom.

"Who is there?!" A shrill, tear-soaked voice called out angrily as Riddle neared the bathroom. "If you really followed me here, Olive Hornby, I will show you what a bad-sighted, ugly minx can do, you whore!"

Harry's heart beat faster, as he realised this was likely the moment Myrtle was killed. Indeed, riddle stopped his movements, and turned back, though he didn't move back towards the chamber.

" _Sheesa. Petrify the girl, then resume your hibernation._ " Riddle ordered. It took a while, but Harry seizure up when he saw the massive basilisk move through he narrow tunnel, barely missing him and Riddle.

"What now!?" Myrtle called angrily. "Aren't you don-" she suddenly stopped mid sentence, and there was a soft thump as Myrtle's body fell to the ground. The Basilisk slithered by again a few moments later, and Riddle moved into the bathroom. Myrtle lay there on her side and her hand out as if she was holding the door open when it happened.

"I know you can't hear me in your Petrified state, miss Warren." Riddle said mockingly as he stalked towards her. "But after all he trouble I've gone through, I think you deserve to be told the answer to why this happened."

Riddle reached into his robes, and Harry saw him take out a small, black leather notebook. No, not a notebook, Harry realised to his horror.

A _diary_.

"I wanted to rid the school of mud bloods like you, Warren." Riddle continued, cutting her palm open with a low-powered cutting curse. He drenched his hand in her blood, and drew a circle and runes around her body, to Harry's confusion. "But you will serve a different purpose, Myrtle. You see, I plan to create something. Something that will tie me to this world forever."

Harry held his breath. Could it be...

"A Horcrux, it is called," Riddle answered.

This is it. This is how Riddle created his first Horcrux. Harry immediately did his best to observe everything as closely as he could. Charlus and the other adults needed to see this.

"Unfortunately, Warren, for a Horcrux to be created someone has to die a cold-blooded death." Riddle continued, finishing the rune scheme that Harry was now dedicating to his memory. "And sadly, you're it."

Then, without a moment of hesitation, Riddle raised his wand and fired a powerful piercing hex at her heart. Instantly a bloody red hole 6 inches in diameter appeared on the left side of her chest, and her body slumped to the ground entirely. Harry closed his eyes. No one deserved to go out like that, without even a chance to defend themselves.

* * *

 **Warning: M-rated content might be very disturbing to some. If you can't handle lots of blood and/or have a very vivid imagination, skip this part. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!**

But the ritual, for what else could Tom have started here, wasn't finished. Instantly, Tom moved to crouch over the corpse, and Harry stared on in puzzlement. What the heck was Riddle doing?

He nearly threw up right then and there when Tom put his hand inside her body, closely followed by the rest of his forearm, and groped around _inside_ her body. No spells to Blood flowed from her body like a steady stream as Tom mangled up her innards, and Harry very nearly closed his eyes in disgust. What kind of man would do something like that? But he kept his eyes open, and forced himself to focus despite his upset stomach and rapidly beating heart. Charlus and the others needed to see how it was done, he justified for himself. They needed to know, if only so they could stop and strictly enforce the prohibition of is kind of ritual.

Said argument was nearly thrown out the window along with the contents of his stomach, when Tom finally removed his bloodied arm, and he had a handful of mangled, torn and shredded organs in his hand, which was nearly too much for him to hold in one hand. Intestines dangled from between his fingers, and a kidney half popped out between Riddle's thumb and index finger. But the most disturbing of all was the heart at the centre of it all.

Harry knew that as soon as he'd have the chance, he'd heave into a garbage bin or something. This was too sickening to watch, even for him, and he tried to over his head away from that sight. Only, like the memory of the rotund professor, he found he couldn't move away at all. He was stuck.

Harry steeled his resolve, and forced himself to focus instead of dazing out in thought. _Charlus needs to see this_. He kept repeating in his head like a mantra. It was the only thing keeping him going at this point. _He needs to see this. He needs to know how to stop a Horcrux being created. He needs to know_.

But it turned out there was nothing Riddle wouldn't do, Harry discovered to his ultimate horror. Riddle drew the mess of organs closer and closer to his face, until it was all the way up to his mouth. It was so close Harry thought for a moment he would kiss it, like some absurd goblin ritual. Like, kiss the heart of a muggle-born at that date under a new moon, and voila: the Horcrux was created.

He knew he wasn't as lucky. Instead of kissing, Riddle opened his mouth.

And bit down into the organs. And chewed. And to Harry's horror, swallowed.

Harry finally closed his eyes for an instant, and he felt tears streak down freely from his eyes. Nothing could have prepared him for this sight. Not the horrors committed at the Dursleys, not the challenges he faced at school, not he trials of the tournament and the graveyard. Nothing, absolutely _NOTHING_ could have prepared him for the sight of Voldemort freely and willingly indulging in _cannibalism_.

The professor from the first memory had been right. It required the ultimate act of evil to split one's soul. But that wasn't simply murder, or any random Death Eater could create a Horcrux. No, _this_ was the ultimate evil. Very few, if any, of Voldemort's Death Eaters would go as far as to commit cannibalism, and none would do so willingly. Certainly not Lucius Malfoy. He was simply an arrogant, pampered prince who follows Voldemort's every whim. He wasn't a savage, heartless monster like Tom.

Harry finally looked again, and saw Tom was almost done eating his handful. He finished chewing up the last intestine, before sending a wide cutting curse at Myrtle's body. Her body was ripped open from lower neck and chest to her waist, and the mess of organs and bones he had made was now clearly visible. For a moment, Harry feared Tom would grab another fistful of organs, and decide to eat those whole as well. He was not disappointed. Tom reached down, with both hands this time, as he gorged upon her body. For the next half hour, Harry was compelled (no _forced)_ to watch as Tom ate most of Myrtle's body. No one came in and interrupted, as Harry had secretly hoped but knew would not happen. It was after midnight, likely even very early morning judging by e lack of sunlight from the window, and very well beyond the time teachers and other prefects would be patrolling.

Finally, the bloody ring of runes around Riddle lit up, and the monster (Harry refused to see him as a human after this) looked up. He sent a final bludgeoner at her body, messing up what remained of her body. Frankly, the only things not... _Eaten from_ , were her limbs and her head. Everything else (her body, her clothes, her innards) was ripped to shreds and eaten from, a spine and broken ribs barely visible. Likely to cover up the involvement of his snake and to blame Aragog, Harry realised. He'd once read Acromantula gorged on their victims like this. It might not explain the petrifications, but after such a sight no one would doubt the involvement of Hagrid's tamed pet Acromantula. No wonder the Ministry immediately expelled Hagrid and hunted his Acromantula on sight.

 **End of M-rated content.**

* * *

Riddle stepped into he centre of the circle and started chanting. Part of Harry listened to it, so Charlus and the others would know (although Harry was sure they wouldn't want to) what to look for and what books to burn. But the rest of him simply dazed away, trying to cope with what he'd just seen.

There was no limit to what Voldemort would not do to get what he wanted. Part of Harry had already realised at, because no sane man would try to murder a baby. But this really drove the point home. He was a monster. He was cruel, and sadistic, and he had no shred of humanity left in him.

Harry burst into tears again when he realised he'd had a part of the man inside his head for almost all his life.

He focused again when the chanting ended, and a grey human-shaped form with a dark ball of light where the heart would be sprung from Voldemort. He circle immediately split in two, and with his wand captured one of the parts. He slowly oozed it into the diary, and Harry saw it briefly give off a soft glow, before returning to normal again.

The human form returned to reside in Voldemort, and he briefly slumped in his place. He regained his vitality before falling, however, and grasped the diary in both hands. Then, a malevolent smile passed over Voldemort as he took in his first Horcrux. Harry saw him also briefly turn his gaze to a golden ring with an obsidian-coloured diamond-shaped stone on it, a bisected triangle with a circle in the centre edged onto it.

He then spent the next half hour cleaning up the Rune as well as himself, so as to leave no trace of what had happened beyond Myrtle getting attacked by a monster. Then, when neither Voldemort nor Harry could find a trace of blood on the man, the boy ran out.

"Professor Dippet!" The monster screamed in false panic. "Dumbledore! Slughorn! Mortlake! Merrythought! Come quickly! There's another victim!"

From various rooms connected to the corridor various professors emerged, and Harry saw Dumbledore and the rotund professor among them. At the end, the old headmaster from years ago came running down the stairs, and they all followed Riddle to the bathroom.

"Did you realise, Neville, that another horror is going to happen this year?" A new voice said with obvious dismay, and Harry startled. He recognised that voice, but he was sure it wasn't from this time.

"What's that?" Neville asked, and Harry realised he was slowly returning to the clothing store. Malkin was done measuring him and was now busy with Neville.

"We have to take our OWLs a _second_ time!" Ron said with horror, his dismay obvious on his voice. Harry couldn't hold it in any longer. He vomited on the spot, startling everyone and making those standing close to him jump away.

"Whoa!" Sirius said. "Now there's an overreaction if I ever saw one."

"It's in disgust of your ugly face." James returned, causing Remus to roll his eyes, Sirius to look indignant, and Peter to snicker.

"Not that." Harry managed as soon as he'd caught his breath. "A memory from a while ago."

The others looked concerned, but Ron and Neville nodded in understanding, knowing at least some of what Harry had gone through. Harry shared a quick, knowing look with Charlus, and the man's eyes widened in understanding. He knew Harry had just witnessed another of Voldemort's memories.

The rest of their time in Diagon Alley went by quite fast for Harry. To his relief, Ron and Hermione (whose group of ladies had rejoined them by then for their own clothing shopping) helped him pick his own clothes for free time, as he didn't feel up to making his own selection of choices. In the end he went for common jeans, a few shirts of bands from this time he knew weren't that bad (despite Sirius' protest) and a leather jacket for his standard free outfit, as well as a healthy supply of shirts, socks, pants, underwear, sweaters, the whole shebang. Charlus, in turn, helped him choose his formal wear and dress robes, and ensured Ron and Harry didn't humiliate themselves too much. They couldn't get much else as the school lost wasn't in yet, and they didn't know what to get. So in the end, after a quick lunch (which was nonexistent for Harry, since he didn't trust himself to throw up again)

When they got home, Charlus gave them half an hour to stow everything away in their rooms, and Harry and Ron just dumped their stuff on their beds. Ron because he was his lazy, typical self, and Harry because he knew he wasn't up to putting it away properly.

After the half hour had passed, during which Harry ignored the concerned looks from Ron and Neville, they all headed downstairs, where Charlus, Dorea, Fleamont, Euphemia and the marauders were waiting in the living room. Hermione, Ginny and Luna weren't there yet, but judging by the sudden steps Harry heard on the stairs he knew they were on their way. A Pensieve lay on the living room table, so Harry knew it was likely going to be about his... No, _Voldemort's_ memories. That, or they would get to hear more about Charlus and Arcturus' faction. Considering what Harry and the others were going to do, possibly both.

"Where are my parents?" Neville asked, concerned.

"They went home, for now." Charlus answered. "Frank and Alice will come over tomorrow, though. And they'll remain until the end of the holiday, so you can get to know one another. Hector and Augusta will come over often enough themselves that they won't mind."

The door opened behind Harry again, and Hermione, Ginny, and Luna walked into the room as well. In the end, they all say down on the couches, Harry last and sitting between Hermione and Ron for comfort.

"The reason I asked you all to come here," Charlus started. "is to get answers a number of questions you all have. Answers I, Harry, or maybe one of you can provide."

"Like that cloud of dark magic that hung over Harry when he arrived?" Euphemia asked in concern.

"Among others," Charlus confirmed. "Do you want to start, Harry, or shall I?"

Harry fidgeted a bit, as everyone turned to him. He didn't want to talk about this. What he'd learned was too disturbing for anyone to ever hear, much less witness in Pensieve memories. He wanted to do this alone. They didn't deserve to be around him constantly, carry his burdens for him.

Yet, as he looked around, he saw nothing but people concerned for his welfare. Neville and Peter, who looked nervous at what was to come yet determined to help him. Hermione and Remus, the intellectuals of the teenagers that wanted to analyse his problem so they could solve it. Sirius and Ron, who wanted nothing more than to help one of their friends in his direst time of need. Ginny and Luna, the former fierce and just as determined as the others in her desire to help her former crush, the latter eager to help one of her first friends and one of few who truly understood her.

Euphemia and Dorea, both standing strong and ready to support him emotionally should he need it, just as protective of their grandson/nephew as of their own husbands. Fleamont, frowning in agitation, determined to help his family through whatever crisis was looming over him. And Charlus. His grandfather, ready to help him however he was needed, to teach him all he needed to know. To be the grandfather for Harry he couldn't be.

And James. His father, who stood up and gripped his shoulder strongly, to let him know he would always be loved and protected.

"I'll start." He finally said, before getting out the memory of Tom's meeting with the rotund professor and placing it in the Pensieve. "Before we begin, however, you all need to see this memory. You need to know what a Horcrux is."

* * *

 **Do not worry, this is not a god-Harry fic. He's merely a bit more powerful, story-wise to compensate for the experience most of the Death Eaters would have on him. Rowling already portrayed underpowered Harry pretty well (or at least a Harry that doesn't use his full potential), while dozens, if not hundreds, of writers here wrote him overpowered. I try to find a middle-line in there, so if I cross that feel free to point it out.**

 **Spoiler in case you didn't read the M-rated section:** **Yes, what I did for the memory of how Horcruxes are created is very cruel, brutal, sadistic insane... and right up Tom Riddle's alley. Rowling always said murder is the worst thing in the world, and that it splits the soul apart, but I always found this a bit... sketchy, at best. If that was all there was to it, any Death Eater could make a Horcrux with how often they kill. So I figured I needed something more horrifying. Something evil. Something no one but the most insane or tradition-bound people would go to. Cannibalism for a ritual was my answer, and it made sense. Riddle was driven to be immortal and would do anything to achieve it. And it also ensures not everyone could also create a Horcrux. can you really see Lucius Malfoy eat someone's organs? Or Snape, as much as the man redeemed himself in the last book? This is my fan theory as to how they are created and I decided to put it in.**

 **While Soul-bonds are mentioned here, I don't intend to make this one unless I get serious support for this**

 **Next stop: Charlus Potter and Rascal backstory, King's Cross, Arrival feast, and meeting a certain greasy-haired git (Sirius' words paraphrased, not mine). And maybe a bit of the first week and how the school reacts to the presence of Harry and his friends, if I feel up to it.**

 ** _* = Wizarding measurement from lower level up: Muggle, Squib, Near-Squib, Weak, Below Average, Average, Above Average, Strong, Very Strong, Powerful, Very Powerful, Extremely Powerful, Near-Mage, Mage._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's Chapter number 3. As promised.**

 **The following pairings are now confirmed: James/Lily, Remus/Hermione, Sirius/Luna, and the end pairing Harry/Ginny, with at least one other pairing for Harry before that becomes a reality.**

 **And yes, you read that right: ENDpairing. Come on, the only dating experience the guy has had at this point is a single disa** **strous date with Cho Chang and a failed Yule Ball date with Parvati Patil. Not to mention the only people he could've gone to for dating advice are Sirius, the twins, and possibly (though unlikely) Hermione. And you know why, regardless of being his good friends/godfather, Harry might question the advice the first three might give him if he'd asked. I intentionally left out Remus because after the end of third year, the only times Harry saw Remus were the end of the summer between fourth and fifth year, and Christmas and the bit where Sirius and Remus talk to Harry after he discovers James' questionable behaviour as a teenager, leaving little time to talk about dating advice. So you with Harry's obvious lack of knowledge and experience involving women, it would simply not be realistic if Harry found and fell in love with someone at first sight. Like many people, Harry will find his love through trial and error. Something I'd like to see more in fan fiction, instead of Harry meeting a girl and ending up marrying or falling in love with her at the end.**

 **Shoutout to to my first and favourite proof reader, Wolf's Scream! Thank you, awesome fellow writer and reviewer, for correcting many of my mistakes. Contrary to what might seem in my writing, English isn't my native language, and this awesome man helped correct or remove my mistakes, and even gave me a few ideas.**

* * *

Chapter 3

 ** _Conference room, top floor, Potter Manor, England_**

 ** _August 19th._**

The final member entered the conference room behind Deckard, at long last, and closed the door behind her. The Bones twins, infamous war heroes of the war against Grindelwald, then took their respective seats close to the pair of Barons, and the meeting got started.

It had been a tiring month for Charlus, especially the first few days after they learned Harry had been a Horcrux, and what had to be done to create one. The nine kids were horrified that something like that had happened to Harry, and as Charlus had expected they had all flocked to support him. That is, until Harry revealed to them all his thoughts on Dumbledore, how the man had known and done almost nothing about it. The kids had been appalled, especially Miss Granger, who had long had faith in Dumbledore and authority figures in general. But even she could not continue to defend him with all the supporting facts Harry threw behind his theory about how Dumbledore had intended to lead him to his death to get rid of the Horcrux, especially the Prophecy that he let the others (Charlus and the others included) hear for the first time. A prophecy Dumbledore had witnessed, stating that Harry and Voldemort had to face one another in battle, and only one, or neither, would walk out. Charlus remembered being pissed at that one. Dumbledore had practically manipulated Harry his entire life so he would willingly walk to his death, so the Horcrux could be destroyed. Only the fact Harry was sitting there now, free of the Horcrux, had calmed him down.

They had immediately started a training regime all six kids had to follow. After all, Harry and Neville had supposedly been privately tutored across on the continent for their extreme skill and because of their power, and the others had been met due to lessons from the same tutors. They had to show their potential as well. Therefor, in the morning Charlus drilled them in an extensive training schedule, whipping them into shape, the Marauders included. Sometimes Sirius and Peter had tried to sneak out in the beginning in their Animagus forms, because they couldn't handle being awoken at the crack of dawn. Charlus hunting them in his Griffin Animagus form (and in the first week Fleamont in his Eagle Animagus form, until he had returned to the USA) had promptly persuaded them to stop those efforts.

In the afternoon, Dorea would get their spell work up to the expected standards, and in the early evening before supper, teach them all Occlumency. And as expected, Harry took to Occlumency the fastest (to the boy's own surprise. It was a shame the boy underestimated his own abilities so much.), and had mastered it entirely in a week. And Neville and Harry were by far the most powerful with their spell work. The others were certainly no slouches, but Harry and Neville simply worked on a level above the others. The Marauders even started a betting pool who of them could win the most often. At the moment Neville was in the lead with ten wins, seven losses... and nineteen ties.

Charlus had also noticed, to his surprise but extreme pleasure, that the Marauders had persuaded them to try and become Animagi, if only so they could all be there for Remus, someone they all held in high regard. At the moment, the Lovegood girl was the only one close to managing her transformation, but Charlus knew that advantage wouldn't be hers alone forever.

While they all trained hard, especially Frank and his girlfriend Alice Prince, they all had some fun time too. Most of the boys spent their time either regaling in the Marauders' tales of various pranks (a few of which had Charlus guffawing as well, when Dorea wasn't looking), or engaging in their own prank wars. The girls, meanwhile, often spent their time reading, talking up on events of the last few years so they wouldn't stand out (which they in turn related to the boys in the evenings), or taking revenge on the boys when a prank accidentally we off close to them. And to be frank, even Charlus had never heard of the Bat Bogey Hex the Weasley girl had performed on Sirius, and he found it hilarious.

But training his offspring and their friends wasn't all he had been up to. He knew that You-Know-Who had to be stopped no matter what it took. If a man had created Horcruxes, he was just as bad as Grindelwald, the man that had united their families in the first place. And so, he and Arcturus had worked tirelessly so they could all meet together for an extended period in time, and discuss what needed to happen concerning You-Know-Who.

And now, here they all were. Hyperion Greengrass and Howard Fletcher, as well as the latter's son Mundungus. The three of them had an extensive array of contacts in the underworld, the former in the muggle world and big time Wizarding world, the latter two specialising in the small time Wizarding world. In addition, Hyperion had a majority ownership in a large number of British Wizarding businesses. If Voldemort did anything concerning large amounts of money, Hyperion would know.

Aside them there were the Bones siblings, Deckard and Seraphina. The Terror Twins, as they were called by all who earned their ire, were devastating in any means of flight, be it Muggle Air planes, brooms or magical carpets, the two were deadly in the air, and no slouches with their wands either.

Then there was Hector Longbottom, a man with a number of contacts in the Auror department. Hector could get people to listen to him and appear in response to calls if he needed them, even the politicians like Scrimgeour or paranoid nutcases like Moody, although those were a stretch and not at his beck and call.

A mistake to forget, of course, were the lesser houses that Charlus respected fiercely for their loyalty, but who couldn't meet as often. Like Richard Croft, one of their lesser supporters. While he supported them with all his heart, he didn't have the fighting mentality like most of the others in the alliance. Instead, the man helped finance them and, with his muggle archeological background, helped them track down anything ancient or needed for rituals. Heck, with how much time spent in tombs the man could have been a curse breaker, were it not for his troubled past with Gringotts. The Shacklebolts, led by the head of their family, Anamaria, were also such an example. Their family was steadfast in their belief, and they enjoyed their alliance here. But in the Wizengamot and elsewhere they simply had too little power to effect real change, and kept themselves secluded in the background.

Charlus swept his gaze over the other families represented but who he didn't know as well due to the fact they had been recruited by others, like the Joneses, the Ropers, the Riverses, the Macmillans, the Smiths, the Davises, the Shafiqs... His heart ached when it came across the empty seat. There were other absentees, like Fleamont or the Delacours, who were both out of the country at the moment, and couldn't come back any time soon. But Charlus was looking at the chair that would always remain so, for their group didn't tolerate betrayers and backstabbers. _**Damn you, Reginald Lestrange**_.

And last but not least, there was the second founder of their group. The surly git, as everyone fondly called him, for he was one. But he was their strongest member in heart, and since Lestrange's desertion to Voldemort's ranks, their greatest expert on the Dark Arts.

Baron Arcturus Black.

Charlus reminisced about the past for a moment, as he allowed everyone a few moments to catch up. He could afford to, since they had over two hours. He remembered it all. Their Hogwarts days, and how they had initially been very hostile to one another. Heck, Arcturus' first scar was from a curse from Charlus he'd never allowed to properly heal. But then the Defense teacher had briefly been replaced by an imbecile like Merrythought, who didn't teach them anything beyond his usual tripe of encounters with magical creatures. And Arcturus had agreed with Charlus that they needed to teach each other in order to pass their OWLs. Inevitably, this had drawn in Hyperion Greengrass, Reginald Lestrange, and Archibald Davis, who were Arcturus' closest friends (Charlus expected this was simply because they had all such ridiculous first names), as well as Hector Longbottom, Deckard Bones, and Richard Croft, who were Charlus'. They all, in turn, brought in their siblings, who in turn invited their own friends who had to offer something... the next thing Charlus and Arcturus knew, both of them were teaching half of defence at Hogwarts, and many preferred their sessions to the mandatory Defense classes.

The bonds between them all strengthened over the years, especially when he began to truly get to know Arcturus, as well as his sister (and now Charlus' wife) Dorea, who he was star-struck with as soon as he saw her. And they, in turn, all got to know one another better, as well as their friends. Their friendships became so strong, in fact, that the large group even got their own nickname amongst those not in the know. One so strong and unshakable everyone knew it, and one from which enemies cowered upon hearing it.

The Rascals.

It was true, a few of them drifted apart due to their families forcing them to or their dreams to pursue careers overseas. But the core group, the ones currently present in the room, always stuck together.

And thus, when Grindelwald's campaign began to truly threaten England, they all answered the call to arms - in their own way, of course. One of the benefits of their group was that there were only a handful of spells and rituals they considered too dark or too wrong to use. The Ministry of Magic in Britain certainly wouldn't have condoned it. Much less the French, the Norwegians or the Germans.

It was fortunate, therefor, that most of the members came from wealthy families, and that they had the funds to wage their own war against Grindelwald. They smuggled themselves in behind the lines with help of the Delacours, who were French in origin but firm resistance fighters who would accept any help they could get. And then, once they and their friends and family members who wanted to help had smuggled themselves in, they had struck like lightning and disappeared like smoke. Half of Grindelwald's camps disappeared in raging Fiendfyres even he could not control, for they had been cast by multiple witches and wizards. Supply convoys had mysteriously Portkeyed away to Delacour lands, where the Rascals took their supplies and let the men go back to their furious master. A handful, like Michael Roper, had opted to join, and had their family names redeemed.

The Rascals gained infamy and notoriety when they stopped the heist of the French Gringotts branch. Grindelwald, in a moment of poor judgement, had had his allies (the Malfoys and the Selwyns, Charlus knew, although both families had covered up their involvement extremely well) try and rob Gringotts due to a need for financial influx to fund his armies. Upon hearing of this, the Rascals had literally geared up and stormed Gringotts, and stopped their respective families dead. Quite literally, Charlus would add. They did it with such a fury to protect their goblin allies, that Charlus and Arcturus had received the honorific Goblin titles Scourge and Blaze respectively, the promise they and their family members would gain Wizengamot (or whatever it was called in the country of their choice, like Fleamont Potter and Jeremiah Smith in the MACUSA, for example) seats in whatever country they wanted, and a promise their finances would be arranged for throughout the war.

With their financial troubles taken care of, and gaining sudden infamy and a reputation among wizards, they had opted for a name change. In the end, it was settled by the name _**The Great International Coalition to Better the Wizarding World**_. Though this was such a mouthful most simply called it the Great Alliance, or the old name the Rascals. None of the members took offence at either name anyway.

A benefit of the official name was that many people, and surprisingly the leading Wizarding Family in Russia, the Romanovs, were far more willing to work with them. And soon, with resources from the various resistance groups in Europe and support from Gringotts and Russia, there was a war against Grindelwald on two fronts: the various ministries on one end, and the Great Alliance on another (not unlike how the muggle Adolf Hitler fought against both the Soviet Union on one side and the Allied forces on another).

The Ministries had tried to approach them multiple times, asking and sometimes pleading for their open support. But Charlus had refused to answer and Arcturus had scoffed. The Ministries of various contries had let Grindelwald get far too powerful before doing a thing, ignoring the signs he was a mad man determined to achieve world domination and a dark wizard, much like how the British were now ignoring He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named for the most part. They weren't effective at what they did, and if the alliance surrendered control they would lose far more members than if they worked on their own. No, it was better if they worked separately. Of course, that would bite them in the arse later.

The war came to an end, ironically, in the same city as the Muggles' Second World War: the city of Berlin. Charlus and Arcturus had fought to gain access to Grindelwald, who had taken refuge there after his armies had been decimated, hoping the muggle defences the Nazi's had put up to protect Hitler would help protect him as well. But it was not to be. The Bones siblings, the Twin Terrors of the Sky, were able to get many people behind Grindelwald's lines using brooms and flying carpets while devastating Grindelwald's air division, and Hyperion and Hector had managed to punch a hole in the defences near Tempelhof airport on the ground, letting many people, magical and muggle, into Berlin. The fighting had been intense, with many losses on both sides. Miraculously, the statute of secrecy had held, as many wizards and witches had charmed their wands and staffs to appear like rifles and pistols, and magical creatures they rode to appear like planes and tanks.

But as with the usual curse of Potter luck, others swooped in to take the glory after Grindelwald's armies had been dealt with. The Ministries had launched their own attacks, theirs twice as chaotic and uncoordinated as those of the Rascals, and managed to corner Grindelwald at the same fortress Hitler had taken shelter in. And history knew the rest: Dumbledore confronted Grindelwald, their duel became the fiercest of all ages (even Charlus would have to admit that), and the dark wizard was defeated, his wand confiscated by Dumbledore.

Charlus, Arcturus, and the rest of the alliance had held a permanent distrust of Dumbledore since, as they felt Dumbledore had reaped the rewards of all their hard work. Augusta Longbottom, Hector's wife, even wore a vulture on her hat on a daily basis, a permanent reminder for the old coot of what she thought of him. True, every family was awarded a large sum of galleons by the goblins as reward for the rescue of the French Gringotts, and all major families in the Great Alliance got a prominent seat in the form of parliament they wanted. Heck, Charlus and Arcturus got awarded the titles of Baron, an honorary title for their skill in battle and their fine virtues, something that had only happened ten times in the last fifteen hundred years, and which could not be passed on to their offspring upon their deaths.

But aside from that, their contributions went ignored by the various ministries, and the common people never gave them any recognition. After all, 'it was Dumbledore who defeated Grindelwald and ended the war' to most of the lot, which was something that bothered Charlus and many of the others greatly. Never mind the fact it was the Muggles and the Great Alliance's armies that had taken down most of Grindelwald's forces. They had suffered months, sometimes years in the Belgian trenches and foxholes across the fields of war, even fighting alongside Muggles in Berlin, Caucasus, and the Alps. Dumbledore had simply waited in fear of Grindelwald's power at Hogwarts, and only come out when the Light and Grey sides had started winning again, and only really fighting at the end of what came to be known to the wizards as The liberation of Berlin. While they and their men and women had fought for years and gotten little to no recognition for their deeds, Dumbledore got everything he could have wanted for a week's work at most. An Order of Merlin, First Class, the greatest award in Wizarding Britain. This was followed closely by his promotion to the Chief Warlock of the British Wizengamot. Six months later, getting elected the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederacy of Wizards. And barely a year later, Headmaster when Dippet retired.

Dumbledore got the spoils, while the Rascals got the refuse.

When they had told the children this entire story one night, that had cemented in all of them, even Hermione, that Dumbledore wasn't the saint they all thought he was, even if he wasn't evil by nature.

Unlike He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Charlus had sent Arcturus the memories in advance, so he knew what they were getting into. Arcturus had been outraged, mostly by the Horcruxes, but also by the fact his sons forced abused their freedom to rule their families and got his grandchildren into marriage contracts with the families that supported the monster. A freedom he had promptly taken away. And poor Pollux had met the end of his life that night at the hand of a fiery curse Charlus had taught Arcturus for exactly that purpose. But Bellatrix Black and Narcissa Black were still married off to Malfoys and Lestranges. Granted, the latter had been made when they were still members of the alliance, but everyone knew Reginald's sons and grandsons were morons, only skilled with a wand because granddaddy had taught them the spells. But without his guidance through letters Charlus doubted they would have passed their first year.

But Charlus had been especially interested in having this gathering as well. And not just for the sake of stopping Voldemort. It had been a long, _long_ time since the entire gang had met up. Probably as far back as the unveiling of their memorial for the fallen on the Potter grounds a decade back. They all _needed_ this reunion.

"Alright, everyone, thank you for coming." Charlus said, his words silencing everyone. They all instantly turned either their heads, if they were standing, or chairs, if they were seated, to the head of House Potter. "I know it has been a long while since we all last met-" he began, but Deckard Bones interrupted him.

"Damn straight." The man said, take a puff of his cigar. His looks were the very definition of the word Rascal. Rugged, weathered, wild red greying hair and a mischievous smirk. His clothes were the living image that Sirius Black hoped to portray, with a leather jacket, clothing of music bands (a hint at his pureblood origins, since most Muggles didn't wear shirts of music bands like the Beatles with that), and goggles for a motor bike hanging from his neck, leather boots propped on the table. "It has been five years since we last celebrated anything together." The man continued.

"No thanks to you, Neanderthal." The woman next to him snarked. She was the exact opposite appearance of her brother, Seraphina was. Proper clean dress robes with not a wrinkle out of place, makeup, her matching red and greying hair in a bun, and high heels as she carried her purse in hand.

But personality wise they were identical: troublemakers to the core, upsetting standards as they went. Deckard did so by doing the opposite of what was expected of a Lord and mingling with the common folk. Seraphina did so by doing the opposite of what was expected of a lady: making crass remarks in public where all could hear, and having a malfunctioning filter between her mouth and brain. She'd have been in trouble two times as often as her brother were it not for the fact she's twice as skilled with a wand, as well as muggle martial arts, as half the Auror department. It was often Deckard who was suspected of trouble, but it was more often Seraphina was the one causing it.

"Oh, really, my dear sister?" Deckard asked, turning in his chair so his chin leant on the back. "Do explain why."

"You scare most of them off with your _terrible_ sense of fashion." She responded with a smirk. "Although with how often a lady has been naked on those pants might make you think you have such a sense."

"Oi!" He protested, sitting properly for the first time since entering the room and sitting in that chair. "And what about you, miss I-Hope-To-See-You-Without-Those-Robes-One-Day. And saying that to a woman, no less! You minx!"

"I blame you for being a bad influence." She continued wearing her smirk, and Charlus had to resist laughing aloud. It was no secret in the alliance Seraphina was one that rooted for the other team. And it was also no secret she was rather... open and explorative with that among friends. If she didn't try to flirt with Dorea every time they met he would have laughed. But he had a reputation to keep, and having a 'Witches Witch' in his household and approving of it would do quite a bit of damage in some of his social circles.

Fortunately, Arcturus thought so, too. "Save your frolicking for later, Bones." He grumped. "We're here for business, not pleasure."

"Killjoy." Seraphina muttered, but she regained her regal appearance, and Deckard sat upright in his seat, his back against the chair, fortunately.

"What's this about, Baron?" Hyperion Greengrass asked, ever the business man he appeared to be. The man preferred muggle suits most of the time, and kept a neat appearance except for a shaggy, grey sternum-length beard he kept together with a rubber band. His green eyes covered by rectangular glasses not dissimilar from his own son's, he stared down the two Barons. "Your message said it was urgent."

Charlus nodded, and tapped the round table, through which his massive Pensieve instantly emerged. He had already placed the important memories inside: the arrival of the time travellers, the fight with the future Death Eaters, the following conversation of what had happened, the next day's reveal about the Horcruxes and Harry and Neville's true potential, the prophecy, and the plan on how the kids would finish their education.

"Something happened a month ago, a week before Arcturus and I tried to contact you. The memories in the Pensieve explain it all. Fleamont was there when it happened, and Apolline Delacour has been sent the memories, so everyone who _deserves to be_ will be informed."

The others nodded, and one by one, they all entered the Pensieve, until only Hector, Augusta, Arcturus, Dorea, and Charlus himself were left. Arcturus had seen those exact memories before himself, and Hector had been there for most of it. Charlus moved to look out the window of the room at the top and front of the manor, and stared down to the grounds four floors below. Harry and the others had a free day for once, and they spent it liberally. Charlus was happy to see they'd all bonded over common interests. Remus and Hermione were laying in and under a tree respectively, each reading a book Charlus couldn't make out from here. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Frank, Sirius, and James were playing quidditch, with Luna commentating, throwing in odd creature names in the mix whenever she felt like it and making everyone outside laugh good-naturedly, and Neville, Peter and Alice supporting their friends from the sidelines.

"We did well." Hector said, as he moved to stand beside Charlus, and looked in the same direction.

"Did we?" Charlus asked. "By Merlin's beard the things Harry alone has seen..."

"And he's still a kind and loving person in spite of all that." Hector insisted. "One intense summer of training won't break him. If anything, he'll thank you for helping him prepare to face that bastard and have him and his friends survive the experience."

Charlus nodded. Intellectually, he knew that would be the case. But sometimes, with how rough he was during his training... Then again, his own training by his father Daniel shortly before going off to fight Grindelwald was just as intense. And it had indeed helped him survive where many had not. Deckard and Seraphima's younger siblings, Susan and Edgar, hadn't, as a case in point; likewise Hyperion's youngest son Castor. And his other sons Cyrus and Thomas had alienated themselves from the family through their support of You-Know-Who and their insistence on an overseas curse breaking career respectively because they could not deal with Hyperion's PTSD at their age back then. The man was nowadays almost as paranoid as Moody.

God he was glad James hadn't suffered from his experiences with it.

"Thanks." Charlus said, at least partially reassured. "For being there."

Hector chuckled. "Potters and Longbottoms have stood together for generations, even before the Great Alliance. Harry and Neville are proof of that."

"As is the fact the sister of your brother-in-law's wife, Euphemia Montgomery, married my brother." He chuckled. "While I appreciate it, some can call it... overzealous."

"Hey, Algie doesn't mind." Hector said dismissively. "He barely comes out of the Department of Mysteries these days."

"Algeron Saul Croaker Montgomery only comes out of there if the world ends," Charlus laughed. "And even then only to record whether it fits with one of his theories."

They shared a knowing chuckle, as did Augusta Longbottom, formerly Augusta Croaker. Indeed, the man had eccentricities, but he was a leading expert on foreign forms of magic, and unfortunately it included Horcruxes. Hence, he had been brought into the meeting as well.

After fifteen minutes, the others all emerged one by one. As expected, the young unspeakable looked most disturbed of all. "Horcruxes?" He asked. "The man was stupid enough to create Horcruxes?"

"Yes." Charlus said. "The results of his test revealed Harry had until recently been the sixth Horcrux, meaning there will likely be at least five more."

"Bollocks." The man swore, slamming his hand on the Pensieve that was slowly turning back into a table again. "Horcruxes are incredibly hard to destroy. The only thing I know of that can do it is Fiendfyre."

"Basilisk Venom works too, apparently." Seraphina said, going with the serious mood for once. "Harry and the Weasley girl confirmed it themselves: the diary's powers and its hold on her ended when he unloaded a fang filled with venom onto it."

"So does time travel apparently." Deckard quipped. "But both of those are hard to find or control, as is Fiendfyre, and we have no idea where to find the Horcruxes. Or even what they are."

"Or if he has created them yet." Arcturus pointed out. "The simple point is this: You-Know-Who is dangerous, near-impossible to kill, but not unbeatable. It can be done, even if it is extremely difficult."

"We need to know more." Charlus said simply. "We need to know how the man thinks, what he likes, what he does. We need to know, so we know what he might choose as his Horcruxes.

"Or where he hid them." Lana Shafiq said. "That of itself would be bloody useful."

The others nodded in agreement, or mumbled something along those lines anyway.

"A shame really." Richard Croft said, an shy smile on his face as he turned to Arcturus and Hyperion. "That two of our members have children and grandchildren that walk amongst his ranks."

Charlus turned to his old friend in surprise. The man had a point. Arcturus' grandchildren Bellatrix and Narcissa were either Death Eaters themselves or married to one of them, and the rumour went around his grandson Regulus wasn't far behind. Not to mention Hyperion's son Cyrus, who was in his fifth year at Hogwarts now.

"Cyrus won't talk." Hyperion sighed sadly. "I might try, but he avoids me like Dragon Pox, and our last words exchanged weren't exactly friendly. If we do speak again, I will expect it will come to blows and curses.

"I will speak to them." Arcturus confirmed. "They might not want to, but I can enforce them to speak through the family magic if I have to."

"Arcturus!" Dorea said with shock. "That magic is very dangerous. It could kill them."

"Better they die at my hand than at the hands of that monster and his ilk!" Arcturus retorted. "You saw what Bellatrix would do to Frank and Alice if she stays with Lestrange! Those bastards will torture them! Make them lose their minds!"

"That's low." Hector growled angrily, and Arcturus had the courtesy to bow his head in shame.

"I'm sorry." He said. "But she's my grandchild. My grandchild did that to you. And I'm at least partially responsible because of that"

"You're not." Charlus said. "But we're not here to determine guilt, Arcturus. If anyone's guilty, it's Riddle." Charlus paused for breath, then looked at his friends one by one as he gave them their tasks.

"Harry has slowly had memories of You-Know-Who returning to him day by day over the past month, and although none of them were as important as the first two, Fleamont's analysing all of them for clues on the Horcruxes as we speak. If we learn of one of them, we'll let you know."

"Arcturus, ask your granddaughters to come, and ask them about Horcruxes. Subtly, mind you. We don't want to let him catch on that we know, and even if you believe your daughters won't tell, we don't know the extent of the Mark's powers yet. If they won't come, at least give them a warning before using Family magic to make them come."

"Hyperion, try to ask your son if he wants to meet. If he won't, he's a lost cause, and everyone is free to treat him as they wish. And as soon as we know what he used as Horcruxes, you and the Fletchers will try and find out where he found and got them, or if we can get them before he does.

"Croft, I want you to do a bit of preventive work, and find out what works have information on Horcruxes, down to the barest obscure reference to the subject. If we succeed in all this, we want to be able to prevent a repeat of past mistakes, and knowledge of this dark art should best be eliminated from the world."

"Everyone else, unless I send word to you earlier with other assignments, prepare for war. When finds out, and he inevitably will, You-Know-Who isn't going to take our hunt for his Horcruxes quietly, and he'll turn to fight against us instead of his current reign of terror. And when he does, we need to be ready. Any questions?"

"If we find one, do we destroy it on sight or collect it and later destroy them all at once?" Anamaria Shacklebolt asked.

"Depends on the object." Arcturus answered. "If it's something of extreme value, like an artefact of the Founders or something like that, we'll check with Ironfeet if they can cleanse the object. If it's some common object, like a coin-"

"Or Merlin forgive, his underwear!" Deckard said in shock, making the others chuckle. At Arcturus' and his sister's glare he raised his hands. "What? It's what I would do. Make it an object no one would want to even come close to, much less touch"

"As we were saying." Charlus continued after a few snickers. "Collect them, keep them somewhere safe, preferably in Gringotts where he can't get them, and instantly consult with Arcturus or me. If what Harry told us is true, it might have some influence on us we won't know about until it's too late." Shacklebolt nodded in agreement.

"I highly doubt objects of such a nature can ever truly be stored safely." Richard Croft said in concern. "If what we suspect is true, and they can influence our decisions, it would be better to place them somewhere remote where no one would stumble upon them."

"If we go by that logic, Rich, we might as well just leave them there." Hector retorted. "No, Gringotts should be the safest bet. Who knows, they might be able to remove the taint and transfer it to something else. That way, we might even recover some long-lost artefacts."

Satisfied with the help he'd gotten, Charlus then turned to the twins.

"You two get the fun assignments. Learn all you can about Tom Riddle. If Harry manages to learn what they are before we do, great. But all the same we're going to make an effort to identify them faster. Learn how he thinks, what he likes, down to how often he shakes his business when he does it. Anything could help us determine the hiding places."

"Terrific." Deckard said sarcastically. "We get the fun jobs."

"Oh, _that_ isn't the fun part." Seraphina chuckled, getting out some lip gloss from her purse and applying it nonchalantly "Checking out the possible places is the fun part."

"Glad to hear it." Charlus chuckled. "Augusta, you're one of few of us that still attends the Wizengamot regularly beyond the required amount and does _not_ create a scandal doing it." He looked at Seraphina at that one, who tried to look as innocent as possible. "Quite a number of them are Death Eaters, or have sons amongst his ranks, last I heard. Mind keeping an eye on Death Eater activity there?"

"Of course, Baron." Augusta replied, bowing her head slightly.

"I'll keep an eye on the ministry itself." Hector volunteered. "I doubt Death Eaters are only placing their moles in the Wizengamot."

"You do that." Charlus agreed. "Harry has already found a number of names for you to look into, beyond the usual suspects like Malfoy, Nott and Selwyn. Augustus Rookwood and Barty Crouch's son, to name a few, and a Dolores Umbridge might be a sympathiser, with how much she parrots his pureblood rhetoric."

"Wait. Crouch's son is a Death Eater?" A member Charlus didn't instantly recognise ask. Roper, he thought the man was called.

"Yes." Hector replied. "I heard the last one from him, too. He's the one that tortured me alongside the Lestranges."

"Son of a bitch." A visiting Jeremiah Smith said under his breath. Charlus nodded.

"Yeah, he is. But it could be potential blackmail for later on, so for now only tail him and keep watch. Anything else?" No one made an indication, and after agreeing to meet again in a week at Arcturus' manor on the border of Northern Ireland and Ireland proper to truly prepare for war, the group disbanded.

* * *

 ** _'Marauder quarters', first floor, Potter Manor, England_**

 ** _September 1st._**

"I'm telling you, James." Sirius said, packing up his trunk and preparing to leave for King's Cross station. "We need to help loosen up Hermione. She's almost as bad as Remus, only without the fun pranking side to compensate. Hell, that makes her _worse_ than him."

"Lay it off, Padfoot." Remus grumbled, sitting in his own already closed and packed trunk. "She's twice as skilled as you are at most of the stuff we do, and I'll bet she can prank as well as you do if she put her mind to it."

"That's my _point_ , Moony." Sirius whined. "She doesn't. She rarely relaxes, and keeps studying or reading most of the time we do fun things. She's boring."

"Come off it, Padfoot." James said in frustration, and Peter grunted in agreement as both pushed to get Peter's overfilled trunk shut. "Why do you only appear interested in the girls, when you have your own godson?" Sirius had been making these arguments all week. But that was mostly because he was bored. Neville spent most of his time with Frank and Alice, getting to know them better, and he had gotten a bit tired of Harry. Sure, he loved the kid already, being his godfather (damn that was an odd phrase to say) but the kid was also way too serious about his training. Ron had gotten tired of being pranked so often and avoided him. That, in turn, left only the three new girls. Luna was... Odd, and James could see Sirius had trouble figuring her out, and Ginny had practically scared Sirius off with her bat-bogey hex, which she refused to teach anyone. That left Hermione to bother the others about. At least until one of them figured out how to talk with the blonde girl. That was still something only Harry had managed... And something Sirius wanted to be able to do as well. "He's so serious." Padfoot whined.

"No, you are." Peter snickered, and Sirius glared at their rat-Animagus friend.

"This is your fault, you know." Sirius accused, pointing his finger at Peter.

"Excuse me?!" Peter said indignantly, as they finally managed to get the trunk closed and locked. "Are you implying the fact you're bored is _my_ fault?!"

"You did make us all go to bed early, Wormie." Sirius pointed out. "Usually only Moony or Dorea force us to do that."

"Well, I beg to differ it is not my fault, long haired fleabag." Peter said mockingly.

"Cheese lips." Sirius scowled.

"Devolved dog brain."

"Eater of garbage!"

"You know when Evans said we needed to grow up?" James asked Remus in a whisper. Remus nodded.

"I think I'm starting to get it now." James said, gesturing at his two friends who had devolved their fight to a name-calling contest. Remus chuckled.

"Yeah. Now all that needs to happen is for 'em to grow up." Remus said, before jumping off his trunk. "Come on, let's get our trunks downstairs." James nodded, and together they lifted the large trunks and moved them downstairs.

* * *

 _ **'Time travel corridor, second floor, Potter Manor, England.**_

 _ **September 1st**_.

With a final thud he managed to close his trunk. There, it was all inside. His clothes, his school supplies, the cage he'd bought for Hedwig now on top of it. He checked everything in his room. Merlin, it still felt weird saying that. After their extensive day in Diagon Alley and the long conversation afterwards, Charlus had dedicated the entire second floor of the four-story manor to them, so they all had places to stay. Six of the nine rooms were a bedroom for one each, the seventh and eight were communal bathrooms sorted per sex, and the ninth had been turned into a game room, with multiple board games, a table tennis table, and a closet filled with books for amusement reading.

The last few weeks had been... productive, to say the least. Charlus had promised that, as long as Harry focused on his education and kept sending the Pensieve memories of Voldemort's time, he would take the initial steps of dealing with Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

Harry sighed, as he thought of the argument with his friends again, and his reasons behind calling him only Voldemort from now on. The odd hyphenates like You-Know-who and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named were ridiculous, and only helped increase the power he held over people. And Harry nowadays outright refused to call him Tom, Riddle, or anything of the sorts. While it would vex the man for sure, that man is a monster, and after seeing him... See what he did to Myrtle's body, he refused to see him as anything remotely human.

He had worked the best he could since witnessing such a disgusting thing happen. Realising to what horrors Voldemort would go to keep hanging on to his life had motivated him to train harder and better, and no longer slack off. No, he needed to be better if he wanted to defeat that monster. Right now if the two were to go head to head, Harry wouldn't last a minute. Hell, he'd gotten out of the Graveyard by sheer dumb luck their wands had somehow connected. But he couldn't depend on that forever. He needed to improve himself and his grades. In a way, he was grateful he could redo his OWLs in another time. Now, he wouldn't slack off and fill in the simplest answers. This time, he could give it his all.

Neville, Ginny, and Hermione were right with him on that one. Neville and Ginny because they also knew what Voldemort and his followers were capable of, and now had a chance to stop it with their extra training. Hermione, on the other hand, wanted to help them. In the past she had put her faith predominantly in Dumbledore, because of who he was and how powerful and wise he was supposed to be. But Harry had shocked her out of that when he laid out all the facts in front of her.

She had tried to defend him valiantly, he had to give her that. But after all that had happened on his watch and how odd it would seem to the average adult he had broken through to her. Especially with the facts about the Horcrux in Harry's head and how Dumbledore had been leading Harry to his death. She had needed a few days to recover from that. After all, her entire faith in the Wizarding world had been uprooted, and in the first two days he had often found her crying in her room, clutching some book or another from the Potter library for dear life.

But she had come out stronger for it. When she did, she was often the one leading them in the exercises, after Charlus. She had been one of the most motivated. She had been working the hardest to get better and improve herself.

Ron... Was getting there. Like the best friend he was, he supported Harry from the get-go, despite his family's obvious faith in Dumbledore. To quote Ron at that moment, "I don't care if he is Merlin himself! No one leads my friend to his death like that!" But Ron still needed work. He was always the slowest to start up the exercising, and rarely did it on his own. When he had the (sometimes not so) proverbial kick under his butt to get moving, Harry admitted he worked almost as hard as Hermione and him. But it was the fact he still needed one that bothered Harry.

And Luna. Luna was her usual conundrum to others. The Marauders didn't know how to talk with her, and avoided her a bit because of it - as did Hermione, unfortunately. In fact, aside from himself the only ones he'd seen talking to her were Ginny and on occasion Dorea. And none of those times had it been a serious topic of conversation; Luna had ended it by talking a bit about her creatures, none of which the others seemed to believe in.

And so, Harry had taken her for a brief jog into the forest of the Potter property and talked with her.

* * *

 **Flashback**

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, as they came across the Thestrals in the forest. He took off the fingerless gloves he'd taken to wearing all the time to hide the scars Umbridge had made him carve on his hand with a blood quill. It wouldn't do to have to explain to the student population why where were words carved into his hand, and to be honest he liked the feeling of them a bit.

"I'm fine, Harry." Luna said in her dreamy voice, as they took a short break and Luna went to look at the Thestrals. "Why do you ask?"

"Because I rarely see you talk to others." Harry said, as he walked up to stand beside her. "And I'm a bit concerned."

"Thank you, Harry." She said, petting one of the adults as it walked up to sniff at her. "But you don't need to worry. The Flutterbies keep me company."

"I know." Harry said. This was usually the point where most others stopped the conversation, a bit creeped out by her creatures. Ginny had learned to press on anyway, and Dorea sometimes did so too out of concern. "But you're my friend. You know you can talk to me when something's wrong, don't you?"

Luna was quiet for a very long time, and were it not for the fact her arm was still petting the Thestral he would have thought she had disappeared after that. He took a look at her face, and was mildly surprised to see tears roll down ether cheek.

"Thank you, Harry." She finally said, and Harry saw a smile grow on her face. "So far, only Ginny has been a friend of mine. Can I call you a friend?"

"Of course!" Harry said immediately. Out of all of his friends, only Luna really understood what he had lost. Sure, Neville couldn't really talk with his parents. But at least they were still there, as much as they were. But Luna, like him, had lost her mother forever. He suddenly realised why Luna had been a bit distant: they were in the past, in a time her own mother was still alive... and possibly still attending Hogwarts. She might get to meet her own mother again as well.

"Hey," he said, bumping her shoulder. "Once we go to Hogwarts, shall we try to find out what happened to your mother?"

Luna's smile brightened, and she nodded. "I'd love that. Her name's Pandora Celeste McGregor, by the way."

Harry nodded, and let his own smile creep through. "I'll ensure you can meet her if she's there. And your father."

 **End Flashback**

* * *

Ever since she had trained at least as hard as the others. In fact, some of her charms were among the better ones there were. To his surprise, when he'd once entered her room to tell her supper was ready, he found her room covered in drawings. He had to admit she was a very good artist, as there were quite a number of nice drawings of him, Hermione, Ron, and the others. To his surprise, he noticed there were quite a few more of Sirius than the others.

When he'd asked her, she simply said "I like his laugh. And his dog form smells nice." Harry had promptly left the room after announcing supper was ready. While he liked Luna, he didn't need _that_ mental image in his head of Luna and his Godfather.

He lifted up his trunk and carried it down the stairs. While the work out Charlus had them perform twice a day was tiring, and the potions he was fed were disgusting, they had good side effects. While he was still on the short side, he was no longer that thin. He had gained a bit of weight, and he noticed he was more toned. Or at least you couldn't count his ribs any longer, which in turn was a big plus. And he was now strong enough to lift his trunk up on his own for longer periods of time. When he came downstairs and into the foyer, he noticed his father and Remus were already there, as were Hermione and Neville. Frank and Alice had returned to their own homes yesterday evening to pack, and would meet them later on the train, or in the Great Hall at the latest.

"Where's everyone else?" Harry asked.

"Ron's still asleep." Neville answered. "Although this time he at least had the foresight to pack already."

"Ginny and Luna are still packing." Hermione said. "Though they'll be done any minute now."

"And Sirius and Peter are name calling one another." Remus answered. "They're already packed, but they got into an argument about something. How did you find the Arithmancy book by the way, Hermione?"

"Very interesting, thank you." Hermione thanked him. "It's very informative. I didn't know Professor Vector's exercises could be done in such a constructive manner." "Until I saw that book I didn't either." Remus answered. "Did you know, that..."

Harry tuned the rest out. He didn't take Arithmancy, and wouldn't understand half of what was said. And frankly, he was a bit tired of listening to his friends talk about school stuff like that. During the summer, he'd asked Remus and Hermione if he could get a crash course in Ancient Runes so he could drop the useless subject of Divination. At least Runes had some uses. But the fact he'd had to do hundreds of exercises and memorise thirteen Runic alphabets in six weeks had left him tired and annoyed. True, it wasn't as difficult now that he could remember it more easily with Occlumency, but it was still tiring to do.

"-Quintiny's work on the Geometric solutions is fascinating." Hermione said.

"I agree." Remus said, and Harry noticed him duck his head away for a reason as he said it. Did he have a rash or something?

"Where do you think I can find books on it?" Hermione asked him. "The Hogwarts library, I'd imagine." Remus said, and Harry finally saw what Remus was hiding; a slight blush.

"I'll look for it there, then." Hermione said. Before they could continue their conversation, however, there was a loud thud upstairs. A moment later two trunks slid down the stairs, Sirius and Peter riding one each.

"Yeeehaa!" Sirius yelled as he slid down the stairs. He made it to the bottom of the stairs, miraculously without crashing, and slid halfway across the foyer before making it to a stop against Harry's trunk. Peter crashed into Sirius' bare seconds later, and the two were thrown off their respective trunks by the impact.

"Children." Hermione muttered.

"You see what I have to deal with on a daily basis at Hogwarts?" Remus asked. "And it even gets worse when James joins in with them."

"I pity you." Hermione sympathised. "I can't imagine what stress you must be going through with them every year, especially with your Lycanthropy."

"Don't lay it on too thickly." James warned, as Ginny and Luna came walking down the stairs. "Remus here has made quite a bit of chaos and mischief himself. Remember when you put potions in all of the Slytherin's drinks so they all had Slughorn's mustache?"

"I have no idea what he's talking about." Remus said immediately when Hermione turned to him in shock. Harry smirked at the amused twinkle in his eye, however.

"Oh, really?" Peter asked innocently. "Because I remember that specific potion had been noted down in _your_ notebook in _your_ handwriting. Want us to have a look?"

"Don't we need to go to the Platform?" Remus called out, and the group was joined by Ron, with Dorea and Charlus close behind him holding a bag of Floo powder. Harry grimaced; he still hadn't got the hang of Floo travel, and preferred a broom or thestral above other means.

"Indeed we do, Remus." Charlus said, eying Peter and Sirius carefully as they tried to look as innocent as possible. "We better get moving if we want to avoid the rush of the crowd." Charlus led them to the fireplace in the living room, and grabbed a pinch of powder, calling out "Platform Nine and Three Quarters" as he stepped in. Harry and Neville followed first, and arrived swiftly. Indeed, he noticed only three other families on the entire platform, one of which was only just arriving through the barrier. He cleared the space near the fireplace, and Ron and Luna emerged next, followed closely by Ginny and Hermione.

"Can I talk to you guys for a few minutes?" Charlus asked. Harry nodded, and the group stepped to the side of the fireplace so they could have a little bit of privacy when the others arrived.

"Look," Charlus began. "I should have mentioned this earlier, but when you go to Hogwarts this time around, there are bound to be a number of people from your time that were quite bad back then. But you need to give them a chance. In quite a lot of the cases, whatever turned them that way hasn't happened yet."

"What?" Ron whispered in astonishment. "You want us to befriend Slytherins? Most of them will curse us in the back first chance they get. They're evil."

"Dorea was also a Slytherin." Charlus pointed out, before sighing. "Look, if you truly are against the Slytherins that much, I won't force you to interact with them. But I met my best friend... my _brother_ in Slytherin. At least give them a chance."

Harry nodded reluctantly. As much as he hated to admit it, the man had a point. He could turn many lives for the better with this second chance, and he should make the attempt, if nothing else. From the looks of it they had already succeeded doing so with Peter. "Alright, one chance." Harry acquiesced. "But if they start throwing curses at us they're fair game."

"That's fair." Charlus admitted. He smiled, and patted them all on the shoulder. "You've all done incredibly well so far. Just keep up the good work, and I'm sure you'll all achieve incredible things.

Harry nodded in thanks. Indeed, they had come very far. Some of them even already knew what their animagus form would be (Most of them matched their Pat round, so Luna would become a hare and Ron would end up a dog, albeit smaller than Sirius' form. The rest either didn't match or hadn't mastered their Patronus that far yet.), and Harry was close to discovering his own. If he kept it up, and got a bit of help from the Marauders, he knew he would be capable of transforming by Christmas.

"Good." Charlus said, before leading them back to be rest of the group. "A pep talk between a father and his son and friends." Charlus explained at Dorea's questioning gaze. Dorea nodded in acceptance of this, and herded them all to the train.

"Have a good time at Hogwarts dears." She said with a smile. "Try not to cause too much trouble. And I'm looking at you four here." She indicated with her fingers. James looked mock-indignant and hurt.

"Mum! Where would you get such an idea?" He cried dramatically.

"We're the picture of _innocence_!" Sirius added, swooning theatrically in James' arms. Harry chuckled at their antics, fondly remembered how Fred, George, and Lee Jordan could behave when they were accused of something. Though like the Marauders, it was more often than not that they had actually done it.

"Yes, and I am Merlin's court jester." Charlus deadpanned. "Unfortunately, we've got a meeting in a few minutes with the rest of the Rascals core group. The Terror Twins think they know where they can find out You-Know-Who's current hideout, and we need to find a way to make sure without sending someone in."

"We love you all." Dorea waved goodbye, as they headed for the train. "See you at Christmas!" Harry waved goodbye to his grandparents for the first time, and with extreme reluctance followed the others in boarding the train. It was the second time, first if you didn't count the Christmas with the older Sirius, that he didn't look forward to returning to Hogwarts as much as usual. It was a rather surprising change. But he welcomed it. Though Charlus, Dorea, and Hector had been rough, it had been a very good summer for Harry. Not to mention Potter Manor was almost like home.

Almost.

He was, therefor, so lost in thought reminiscing that he missed the others entering the train, and realised he was currently alone on the platform, aside from the other families in the distance on the platform. He hit his forehead mentally upon noticing, and hurried to the closest entrance to get on the train, lifting his trunk and Hedwig's empty cage onto the carriage. Sighing, he made his way down the train looking for the others. He couldn't have walked that far, so they had to be close by.

In his hurry to find the others, he missed the fact the next couple of people entered the carriage near him as he walked past, and he accidentally tripped over someone's foot. He fell onto the ground, dropping his trunk which fell open and spelled most of his clothes, and making the other two people stumble as well.

"Sorry." The girl said, and she sounded a bit embarrassed. "We didn't look where we were going."

"That's alright," Harry dismissed, as he waved his wand and with a look of concentration made all of his clothes roughly fly back into his trunk, which he locked securely with a charm this time. "I wasn't exactly focusing on my surroundings either."

"Nice spell work." The other, a boy with black greasy hair said. Harry looked up, both the voice and the boy's looks seeming vaguely familiar. The memories of them were too distant, however, and he dismissed them for now.

"Thanks." Harry said, picking up the empty cage and sticking it to the lid with a sticking charm. He decided to give a part of his false origin of being taught abroad, and began to spin a small tale. "Learned it from a tutor in Southern Portugal. A small town close to Faro."

"I see, ho-" but then the voice stopped, and Harry curiously looked up. The boy looked at him with a snarl, and the girl, a red head next to him, certainly didn't look happy either.

"Potter!" The other boy snarled, and his hand reached for his wand. Harry instantly recognised where he had heard that voice before. There was only one man who could say his name with such hate and resentment. Severus Snape. The situation didn't escalate into a fight, however. The girl pushed Snape's hand away from the wand, and so Harry didn't bother reaching for his own. Then the girl looked at him in anger.

"Go away, Potter," she said. "I'm not in the mood for one of your usual taunting flirts."

And then Harry got a good look at her eyes, and took in a sharp but silent breath. Immediately, to cover it up, he raised his hands in surrender. "I think you're mistaking me for my brother." He said. "Allow me to introdu-"

"Spare me." Snape drawled. "I fell for the twin trick once before. Never again." With that, and a billowing of his school robes that followed that did a fine imitation of those he wore as a Potions professor, he stalked down the way Harry had come. The green eyed, red haired girl sent one last glare at him, before following. Harry stared after her for a few moments, before resuming his search for the others.

While he had seen Snape's memory, he didn't need the reminder that Snape and his mother had been very close friends before the OWLs.

It took him only five more minutes to find the others. They sat surprisingly close to the Prefect's carriage, in a compartment close to the door that led to it in fact. The eight of them, Remus excluded due to the fact he'd been made a Prefect and needed to attend the meeting, were all cramped in the compartment. Peter took advantage of his Animagus form and sat as a Rat on Luna's lap being scratched behind the ear by the girl. Ron looked a bit sickly at it when Peter and the other Marauders weren't looking, and Harry knew from experience he was reminded of the Wormtail from their time, the traitorous "Scabbers" Ron had let sleep in his bed.

"Harry, there you are." Hermione said as he opened the door. "Where were you? We were almost going to go and look for you." Harry nodded, eying Sirius lazily stretched out with his legs on James' lap, James with his head leaning against the wall sleeping, and Ginny reading an issue of Witch Weekly with an air of boredom around her. Right, _almost_ about to look for me.

"Sorry," he apologised as he sat down in the corner right next to the door, the only remaining free seat. "Got lost in thought and missed you entering the train. I got in a bit further back. And I had an interesting first meeting with my mum."

"Really?" Neville asked curiously. "What was she like?" Harry hesitated, unsure how to describe his first (quite awkward and hostile) encounter with his mother. In the end, after due consideration, he settled for the simple answer that would explain it all.

"Let's just say she confused me for him." He said, pointing at James. Sirius threw his head back in exasperation.

"Ah, that can't have gone well." Sirius said. Upon the confused looks of most of the others, Sirius explained "She might become Harry's mum one day, but at the moment Evans can't stand James' attitude. Says he needs to grow up."

"Is that her?" Ginny asked, looking up from her magazine and staring at something outside the compartment. As Harry leaned around to look through the small window of glass in the door, he indeed saw a flash of red hair stride past.

"Yep." Sirius said. "Don't be surprised if she dislikes you simply for being friends with him. Only Moony managed to break through that curse, and we still don't know how he did it."

Harry sincerely hoped he could break that curse. While he couldn't blame her after how he saw his father behave, he hoped she would give him a fair chance and allow them to get on friendly terms with one another. He wanted to have a chance to meet and get to know _both_ his parents, after all.

The train ride, surprisingly, went by very peacefully, aside from the awkward first-meeting with this mother. Since the compartments were too small for a group of ten to comfortably use, the Marauders and Harry's group each decided to take separate compartments. And Harry actually relaxed as he realised something.

He wasn't going to get the traditional train visits anymore from Draco Malfoy. Something they all celebrated with a liquorice wand when he pointed it out. Even Hermione cracked a smile and took one. Which was amazing, considering she rarely ate anything with sugar due to her dentist parents. Then again, as reluctant as Hermione was to admit it, the blond ponce's absence was something to be celebrated.

Harry settled, like Hermione, to reading from a Practical Defensive Spells book, while Neville and Ron played Exploding Snap, and Ginny and Luna took turns reading the single Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly they had between them. It made for a calm train ride, and it was all too soon they were back at Hogwarts.

As they had been instructed by Dumbledore and McGonagall in their acceptance letters, they made their way with the first years to the boats. Harry stopped for a moment to smile and enthusiastically greet Hagrid, but stopped at the last second with pain in his heart. While Hagrid was a good person, the man didn't know him in his time, and greeting him like that would just come off as creepy. Instead, Harry merely settled for a smile and a nod.

Since they were too big and heavy to settle for four in the boat, they settled for three in each this time, with Harry, Ron, and Hermione in one, and Neville and the others in the other. Ron looked uneasily at the water, reminded there lived a giant squid inside it. But Harry wasn't overly concerned. After all, the view of Hogwarts from the lake was spectacular, especially after dark, and Harry took every chance he got to relive it.

"Bloody hell." Harry heard Ron mutter a few seconds later, and he smiled, gazing upon the awe-inspiring view of the large castle. No matter how welcome he was at Potter Manor, or where he had to make his living in the world, he would always consider Hogwarts his first home. It wasn't too long before they arrived at the underground dock for the boats, and he was forced to leave the boat. He did so as the first of the three of them, helping Hermione and Ron out as he did. Together, they rejoined Neville and the others, and followed the group of anxious first years (who all couldn't help but stare at the group of much older teenagers) and Hagrid to the Hogwarts gates. As expected, McGonagall awaited them on the other side, although she looked considerably younger, and her hair was still mostly streaked with black hair instead of being entirely grey.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here," she said, and the gatekeeper made his way around to the Great Hall and his own seat at the staff table. Harry and his group, meanwhile, followed McGonagall to the reception hall Harry had visited in his first year. She started her introduction speech, and Harry was mildly surprised it wasn't any different from the speech he and the others got in their own time. _She must have practiced a lot_

"And unless any of you have urgent questions, you will wait here until I summon you all for the sorting ceremony." McGonagall finished. In the end, a scared first year raised her shaking hand. McGonagall put on her friendliest and most benevolent appearance, and nodded. "Yes, Miss Talbot?"

"P-Professor," she asked meekly. "Why aren't first years allowed a broom? M-my brother said the rule wasn't around when he came to Hogwarts."

McGonagall immediately looked down and shook her head. "Because, Miss Talbot, the last time we let a group of first years handle brooms, half of our Quidditch stand was gone by the end of the day. For further details, you must seek out the fifth years Potter, Black, Lupin, and Pettigrew. Since they were the perpetrators, and I was absent for the day, they will know the full story."

Harry snorted as Ron and Ginny looked at him with expressions of shock. He couldn't blame them to be honest. Ron had complained quite often in his first year about that rule, at least until Harry got his position as youngest seeker. And Ginny did so too before the Diary's hold on her got worse. It would be a shock for them to hear it was their friend's father, a Quidditch fanatic himself, who was responsible for that rule.

"And I assume you are Misters Longbottom, Potter and Beckett, and Misses Beckett, Bay, and Swann?" McGonagall asked finally, turning to their group. Harry nodded, and held out his hand for shaking.

"A pleasure to meet you, Professor." Harry said sincerely. "My brother speaks very highly of you."

"They are the best in my class." McGonagall complimented. "I pray you aren't as much of a troublemaker as your brother."

"I try to stay out of it, professor." Harry promised. "But with a brother like him, it inevitably finds me."

McGonagall nodded. "A fair point, Mister Potter. I hope to see you in my house," she said, before retreating through the door to prepare for the sorting. Ron tapped his shoulder.

"Your father is the one that got us that rule?" Ron asked. "Really? Why didn't you tell?"

"Sirius and Pr- _Remus_ didn't get around to that story yet." Harry said honestly, because he hadn't, although he'd hinted he knew why that rule was. But Mrs. Weasley interrupted them too often with requests to help in the cleaning of Sirius' house for them to spend much time together, and neither Sirius nor Lupin had been able to pass the story on.

"Bloody hell." Ron muttered. "They make Fred and George look like amateurs."

"That's not true." Ginny said back. "They once managed to get detention before even arriving at the school, for pranking Montague, Pucey, Flint and Warrington so much they wet themselves in misery."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it was a Marauder tradition." Harry countered. "I mean, come on, this seems right up Sirius' alley. 'Look at me, I'm so awesome I even got detention before coming here!'. My father too, now that I know him a bit better."

The others couldn't help but nod in agreement. Over the summer, while mostly a kind person, James had the tendency of being a cocky git. It was only his kind nature to those he liked that mostly compensated. Still, Harry didn't mind too much at the moment. He was simply glad he got to meet his father at all at the moment.

Professor McGonagall returned after a few moments, heading over the group of new students and gestured for them to form two lines. They all complied, and Harry ended up standing next to a nervous, scrawny, blond-haired girl, who he heard muttering a number of things under her breath.

"You can relax." He whispered to her, guessing her nerves were about how they would be sorted. "My brother told me the sorting is very simple. All we have to do is put on a hat."

"Really?" The girl whispered back. When he nodded, she visibly sagged her shoulders in huge relief, and he held back a chuckle.

Eleven year olds. So melodramatic.

He only had a moment to hear her thanks, though, for the next one they entered the Great Hall. He made a show of being amazed as he stared around, as he, James' twin brother returning from the continent, wasn't supposed to have seen the majestic Great Hall of Hogwarts yet.

He stole a glance at the various tables, and saw the Marauders smirk at them from their place at the Gryffindor table, and Frank and Alice giving Neville reassuring smiles from further along. He smiled a bit when he saw his mother and a group of her friends rapidly look from Harry to James and back, her frown increasing a bit more every time.

She wasn't the only one who saw the similarities. Various Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs glanced between him and his father, and whispered their own conclusions to one another. The Slytherins did so as well, but most did so with glares, rather than inquisitive looks, most dominantly by Snape. Unsurprisingly, his father wasn't loved at the Slytherin table.

As they all arrived at the forefront of the hall, in front of the stool with the hat and the staff table behind it, Dumbledore rose from his seat. Harry frowned a bit. While he held no love for Dumbledore, and more than openly questioned some of his methods, they were of a man from another time. This man hadn't committed any of those things to Harry yet, even if Charlus had proven he would be inclined to do so. But he had barely spoken to the man here, much less experienced how he might differ from his future counterpart. Remembering Charlus' words on the platform, he decided to give the man the benefit of the doubt.

"I know it is tradition for us to start with the sorting of the students." Dumbledore started speaking, instantly quieting the entire hall. "But considering the nature of this particular announcement I felt it was right to delay it a little bit. This year, we will be joined by six additional students, who have all come from the continent to learn at our most prestigious school of Hogwarts. May I introduce the siblings of some of our students Harry Potter and Neville Longbottom, and their friends Hermione Bay, Ronald and Ginevra Beckett, and Luna Swann."

There was an instant applause from the Gryffindor table (the area where the Marauders and Frank and Alice sat respectively) and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables followed a few moments later. The Slytherin table came last, and they did so reluctantly and a bit more subdued. "Smile and wave, Neville." Harry heard Neville mutter to himself from behind him, likely to calm his nerves. "Smile and wave."

Dumbledore smiled at the reception the new students all received. "Now that that particular announcement is out of the way, I believe we should let Professor McGonagall get along with the sorting." He retook his seat, and Harry turned his attention to the Hat. It opened its rim, and sang its song to the entirety of the hall. Harry noted that, like the last time he heard it, the song spoke of unity between the houses more than the founders in general. Understandable, given they were at war in both times, and they needed to stand together.

As the song ended and the Hat bowed to the four tables and the group of first years and Harry's friends, McGonagall started the Sorting, calling an Achilles Abbot forward first. Like Harry's former classmate Hannah, the hat put him in Hufflepuff quite quickly. He was followed, surprisingly, by Hermione. Clearly there were no other surnames starting with the A. Hermione walked up to the stool, and actually had to flatten her hair a bit to ensure the hat could sit on her head, something he was sure made Sirius snort in amusement. The hat sat on her head surprisingly long, at least two minutes. But as Harry had predicted, it wasn't a mystery that the hat inevitably shouted " _ **Gryffindor!**_ ", and she walked over to sit in one of the free spaces the Marauders had reserved for them.

Ginny came next, and smiled as the hat was put on her head. Like Hermione, she had it on her head for quite a while. But she too, was sorted into " _ **Gryffindor!**_ " And was sat at the table near the Marauders, opposite from Hermione. Ron followed next, and while the hat took nearly as long as the others, he to came to sit by his sister and friends. Sirius clasped him on the shoulder in congratulations, and Ron smirked back.

They were followed by a smattering of first year students, who upon seeing the older years walk as calmly to the hat as they did seemed a lot less nervous about the prospect of the sorting. In fact, one even skipped over before being sorted into Ravenclaw, and another practically ran to it, so energetic he couldn't even sit down before putting the hat on himself. Harry's eyebrows rose when 'Gilderoy Lockhart' was called, and he watched as the future fraud of a defence professor walked up to the hat, and after a few moments strode to the Ravenclaw table like a peacock. Harry was queasily reminded of Draco Malfoy at that moment.

"Neville Longbottom." McGonagall called next, and Neville walked up to the hat with a calm stride, though the shaking of his right hand betrayed his nervousness. When he sat down, Harry was surprised he took the longest, being an official 'Hatstall' with a time of over five minutes. But he was the one who smiled the brightest when the hat shouted " _ **Gryffindor!**_ ", and he gave the hat to McGonagall before sitting next to his father and Ginny, his mother diagonally across from him as she sat across from Frank.

The first year Harry had reassured came next, and she was named Josephine Moon by McGonagall. Harry was mildly surprised he recognised the name, placing her as the relative of one of Hannah Abbott's and Susan Bones' friends in Hufflepuff, Lily Moon. But unlike her younger relative, the girl was sorted in " _ **Ravenclaw!**_ " after a minute of silence, and the girl smiled brightly as she sat near one of the other first years.

A small handful of first years came before him, before inevitably "Harry Potter" was called forth by the deputy headmistress. Harry smiled as he walked up, and calmly let the hat be put on his head. Part of him had been looking forward in excitement at what the hat would say.

 _Why am I not surprised to encounter another Time Traveller?_ The Hat asked after a moment in mock exasperation. Harry sarcastically thought it might have something to do with the fact four more had come before him.

Ah, the wit and sense of humour of your mother. Even in my previous two sortings of an Evans, or past and future ones if you think about it, I always got to enjoy it as it came past.

Well, better the sense of humour of my mother than that of my father, or the school would be in chaos before the week was up.

If I am to judge by the amount of times trouble, chaos, and adventure seem to find you, we likely will anyway. By Halloween at the latest, I predict.

Oh, brother please not. The disturbing memories of Tom Riddle were enough for this year. He would clean the Sorting Hat by hand in thanks if he could get at least one quiet year with his parents.

I'll take that bet.

'I bet you would.' Harry thought tiredly. Now if only the sorting bit could begin.

I always got a bit of enjoyment to make the old man nervous, especially by sorting someone somewhere he doesn't like them or taking long in the sorting, like with you and your friends. But if you insist... Now, you are quite loyal to your friends, especially with how you care for Miss Lovegood and the trauma Miss Weasley suffered in her first year. And this summer you proved to Charlus often enough you were willing to put up a lot of hard work. You could have a comfortable home in Hufflepuff...

Then again, despite your previous working habits, you've proven yourself to be quite intelligent. But there is more to Ravenclaw's house than intelligence. Namely a thirst for knowledge - but you don't exhibit that strongly enough to be a member of her house. Slytherin isn't suited for you either, for while you do possess a lot of its characteristics, you would be dead by the end of the week if I sorted you there.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He wasn't fit to be sorted into Slytherin? Despite being descended from that founder?

I didn't say that. I said you would die at the end of the week if I sorted you there, and I do have to take a student's welfare into mind. But your courage, your nobility, your kind nature... While you are the closest we have to a potential member of all houses in decades, we both know where you will end up, don't we?

Harry mentally agreed. There was only one place he could truly call home in Hogwarts.

" _ **Gryffindor!**_ " The Hat shouted, and Harry smiled at his new head of house as he handed the hat back to her, before striding proudly over to his father and both of their respective friends, all of whom were clapping the loudest of the entire table. Peter even gave a loud whistle in congratulations, and Harry smiled back at the boy in return.

Harry ended up sitting between James and Hermione, with Ginny sitting across from him. "Congratulations." James said, smiling proudly at his son. The marauders all also looked proud Harry had managed to get into Gryffindor two times in a row, and Harry nodded.

"Thanks." He said. "Now you'd better get on the Quidditch team." Frank said adamantly from across the table. " _With_ trying out, you cheeky bastard."

Harry smirked, recalling the memory. When his father and Frank had first asked him about Quidditch, Harry had pulled one over on them, saying he never tried out for the team, which was technically true. McGonagall hadn't even let him try out before putting him on the team after the stunt with Neville's remembrall. The looks on the faces of the Marauders, Frank, Alice, Charlus and Fleamont that day had been priceless, and he was so glad Luna had discreetly taken Peter's camera and captured the moment forever. To his even greater amusement, Neville and Ron had caught on to his little prank, and gone on dramatically about how bad Harry was during Quidditch, and that when Harry called 'up' to a broom it rolled _away_ from him (something that actually happened to Hermione). They'd lasted for about ten seconds before they descended into rounds of guffaws at their horrified faces. The pranking they'd received afterwards from all of them for that stunt for weeks had been well worth it.

And especially the proud looks of the Potters when Neville let slip Harry was the youngest Seeker in a century, and when the others confirmed that that was not a prank. Frank, the new Quidditch Team Captain of Gryffindor now, had sworn on the spot he would have Harry try out for the position, since a number of people had graduated since and there were three open spots on the team.

"Luna Swann." McGonagall called, and Harry snapped out of his thoughts, looking at Luna as she serenely walked to the hat. And to Harry's confusion, she sat on the hat even longer than Neville. One minute turned into two. Two turned into five. Five soon even turned until ten. Harry's sweat started to roll down his forehead, wondering what the hell could be going wrong.

But he sagged in relief when she was finally sorted. Even more so when she was sorted into " _ **Gryffindor!**_ " Like the rest of their group. She smiled as she headed to the Gryffindor table, and finally sat down between Ginny and Sirius.

"Congratulations on making it to Gryffindor." Sirius told her happily. "I knew you had the heart of a Lion."

"The hat did want to put me in Ravenclaw." Luna admitted as she now looked at her Crimson and golden tie. "But I managed to talk him out of it. And then we had a short little chat."

Remus, who sat across from Sirius next to James, frowned. "You had a chat with the sorting hat?"

"It's lonely, you know? It spends nearly the entire year sitting in the headmaster's office gathering dust, only to be removed from the shelf for one evening. I thought it would be fun to tell him about the many undiscovered magical creatures still out there."

"Like the crumple-horned Snorkack, right?" Harry asked with a smile. While he wasn't certain if they truly existed or not, until he received hard and conclusive evidence that they didn't he would believe her. She was his friend after all, and she had believed him when he needed it.

Besides, the descriptions she gave some of them were truly amusing.

"Yes." Luna said, the same smile on her own lips, and Harry and Luna laughed outright at the confused expressions of the marauders. By Merlin's beard it was fun to befuddle the marauders like this.

Luna was the first to recover, and gave the marauders a description of the Snorkack, to Remus' and Sirius' fascination and Peter's and his father's even greater confusion. Harry tapped the latter's shoulder to get his attention.

"Luna can be a bit... Odd, sometimes." Harry admitted. "But she always means well despite some of her beliefs, and she helped me in a time I needed her the most. Unless there actually is hard evidence her creatures don't exist, I'm willing to believe her."

James nodded, now looking contemplative instead of confused as he thought it over. Harry smiled, relieved he managed to get at least one of them to hear her out on it, and letting Luna take care of the rest.

Which she did in a spectacular Luna fashion. Luna took a look at James, and frowned. "Oh, no!" She said dramatically. "You've got blibbering humdingers all over you."

"Is that bad?" James asked, now sounding slightly concerned. "Not necessarily." Luna answered, briefly glancing down the table before returning to look at James. "But they distract you with thoughts of the person you love the most. And rather mature thoughts of them out of clothes for some reason."

Harry smirked, as he realised what she was doing. She'd once given a description of that humdinger thing to him, and it decidedly didn't do _that_. Which meant she was preparing to take the mickey out of him. This would be good.

"Ooooh." Sirius teased, and he and Peter snickered at the sudden flush on James' face. "I bet he's bothered by them right now."

"Is there a way to get rid of them?" Remus asked, a slight smirk on his own face as well.

"That's simple, really." Luna said, her ever present dreamy voice a bit changed due to her own amusement. "Boys get rid of them by masturbating."

That did it, Harry couldn't keep a straight face any longer, as the Marauders, Harry's own friends, and everyone within earshot looked shocked at her crassness. Even Hermione was speechless, her mouth slightly agape because of it. And Luna kept a most innocent expression painted with a benevolent smile on her face the whole time! He snickered, which in turn let to him laughing out loud, which in turn let to a guffaw as most of them. It was soon joined by most of the marauders' laughter as James suddenly looked like he wanted to be somewhere else right now.

Then he got a smirk of his own. "Luna, are these... What did you call them?"

"Blibbering humdingers." Luna supplied. "Right. Blibbering humdingers. Can they be passed on to others?"

Luna's smile got a bit bigger. "Yes, actually. You call someone on their own crush."

Sirius and and the rest of the marauders immediately stopped laughing, suddenly looking very panicked. "Now listen, mate..." Sirius started.

"There's no need to go to this." Remus tried to reason. "Come on, we're all friends here."

James smiled, and grabbed a bit of parchment from his pocket, as well as a quill and miniature ink bottle. He wrote down six names, leaning away towards Harry as the Marauders tried to stop him... And Harry even switched places with them as Remus actually tried to get up and stop James. Harry read over his shoulder as James let the ink dry.

Sirius-Marlene McKinnon

Remus-Roxanne Sterling

Peter-Mary McDonald

Harry smirked, as James passed the paper on to Luna, who read it eagerly. He heard the Marauders tease James about the crush on his mother all the time, which seemed to have gotten worse when they learned it would eventually happen. It was time they got a bit of their own medicine.

"I'll even point them out to you later." James promised Luna, who smiled back in return.

"Traitor." Peter said to James, though the slight twitch of the lip betrayed he wasn't all that angry. Before any of them could retort, the headmaster stood up, and Harry realised the sorting had finished. He gave his own usual welcome backs and start of meal speech, and Harry noticed that as with McGonagall, the words had changed very little. There was the odd selection of words as the feast was brought to the table. Harry indulged himself as well as he could. Treatment from the Dursleys had taught him that he should eat as much as he could when he was away from them. And being in a different time altogether counted in his opinion.

When they all finished with their meal Dumbledore rose again, this time to give his usual start of term announcements. "Now that you've all had your healthy fill." There was a mild protest from Ron as he was still eating. "I would like to give a couple of announcements. First off, The Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, forbidden for all years, something a few of the older years would do well to remember." Dumbledore have a pointed look in the Marauders' direction, which they tried to match with an amusing innocent or indignant (in the case of Remus) expression of their own. "Secondly, the list of banned items has been expanded to include Fanged Frisbees as well. For the full list one can look on the door to Mister Filch's office."

"Like any of us go there voluntarily." Sirius mumbled. Harry nodded in agreement, his eyes searching the teacher's table.

His eyes froze on a single figure, and his heart skipped a beat in dread. He was there. The same rotund professor who told Voldemort all about the Horcruxes. He looked a bit older, as he had more wrinkles and his moustache had started to grey a little bit. But it was definitely the same man.

"Thirdly." Dumbledore announced. "I would like to welcome back Professor Isaac Clarke, who has consented this year to take up the teacher's position for Defence against the Dark Arts." A man in his late forties with short-cropped black and greying hair rose from his seat, smiling and waving politely at the students. He wasn't particularly muscular or tall, but Harry could see he was fit and well-built. An ex-Auror, if Harry had to guess. Various students rose in applause.

"He's not that bad." James said in relief. "He taught us in second year as well, before leaving on a brief tour to America to help his family. Heck, my uncle probably knows him well, with how often he has us use potions in the class."

"We have _potions_ mixed with Defence?" Hermione asked. "Why?"

"All sorts of useful things can be made and done with potions." Remus answered, as he switched spots with James so he could elaborate. "Exploding potions, blinding potions, the draught of rotting flesh... All of those things can be thrown at an opponent. He said he taught that to fifth years and upwards, so we missed it when he was around first time. But this year could get very interesting if he's back..."

"Lastly, if you wish to join your house's Quidditch Teams, I advise you seek out Madam Hooch, our flying instructor, or the Team Captains of each house for try-outs. For this year, they are Frank Longbottom of Gryffindor, Michelle Davies of Ravenclaw, Edgar Bones of Hufflepuff, and Graham Mulciber of Slytherin."

Harry nodded, as he and the entire table quieted down to prepare for the school song. Frank already had him scheduled to try out, something he never even objected to. It would be good to play for the house team. Flying was one of many things that helped him relax whenever things became too stressed or busy for him. It was one of the reasons he hated Umbridge even more when she's locked away his Firebolt.

Harry tried to keep his voice a bit more quiet when the school song came along, as he didn't want to stand out. But the Marauders stood up on their own accord, and sang in a low funeral march very similar to those of the Weasley twins. Harry sent a questioning look at Ron, who just shrugged and joined them in singing in that tone. Ginny and Neville joined them a second later, and Frank and Alice did so too with an exasperated expression, although there was a twinkle of amusement in Frank's eye. Harry sighed. If he sung normally now, he _would_ stand out. He rose, and matched all of the others in their march-like tone. Hermione gave them a scathing look, before she shook her head in exasperation too and matched their tone as well, though she didn't rise like the others.

Everyone else finished much sooner than they did, and the evening was dragged on because of them by fifteen minutes. When they finished, Dumbledore clapped the loudest while the other teachers gave looks of relief. After a thunderous thank-you from Dumbledore, they prefects led the younger years up and away, and the other students departed for their dormitories.

"Good luck with the firsties, Moony." Peter said, as he departed.

"Have fun with Evans, and point out the good snogging spots." Sirius smirked as well, as he and James left, James only giving a wave of goodbye as he left as well. Harry tried to follow, but Hermione held him back.

"We haven't been here before, have we?" She asked. "We don't know the way. We should wait for the prefects to gather us and give us a tour."

Harry mentally slapped his forehead. Of course, they'd only been here in the future. In this time, they would never have been here before. A sloppy mistake to forget that little detail.

Remus shortly returned to them with the rest of the first years, and Harry saw his mother at the back of the group. He noted that when she glanced at him, she wore a slight blush and looked away. Likely a bit embarrassed she'd confused him for James earlier on the train. Harry made a note to talk to her later and tell her it was all right. He understood, and he did resemble his father quite strongly. Though in this time, his 'brother' would be a better word. He made a note think of him like that for now on, to stop him from messing up out loud later.

"Right, gather around everyone." Remus said, shifting his tone so it sounded more professional. Harry instantly paid more attention, as it was extremely similar to Professor Lupin's voice whenever he was teaching. "I'm Remus Lupin, and this is Lily Evans. We'll give you a brief tour of the castle before showing you to the Gryffindor Common Room and your dormitories. If you have any questions, either now or in the future, feel free to ask either of us, or the Head Boy and Girl if you encounter them. We're happy to help."

And so, they were led all around the castle, from the Great and Entrance Hall, to the various courtyards, by the Astronomy Tower and Ravenclaw Tower, passing through the lower levels and past the Hufflepuff part and the kitchens of the castle, even making a brief detour through the dungeons and passing right where he and Ron entered the Slytherin Common room, until finally passing the ordinary classrooms and returning to Gryffindor tower.

Along the way, Remus and his mother gave various bits of helpful information and landmarks that would help the first years remember their routes. Harry wished Percy'd given them these tips years ago when he'd been a first year himself, as they were very helpful. True, it would likely be a bit much to take in at the moment, and they would likely have forgotten half in the morning unless they'd been here before, but it was more helpful than just showing them around.

They finally arrived at the Gryffindor tower and the Fat Lady's portrait that guarded it. Remus gave the password (Dragon Breath) and the portrait swung open to reveal the common room. Most of the students were already in their dorms, as it was quite close to curfew and many students would be tired from the long trip across England. Remus gave final instructions as to where the dorms were, as well as a time tomorrow when he would gather them and lead them to breakfast. Harry moved to to join the others in heading upstairs, but he was held back by someone again. Only this time he was met by the face of his mother.

"Look, Harry." She started, the blush returning to her face. "I'm sorry for what happened on the train. I didn't mean to have such a bad start with you. It's just-"

"I look a lot like my git of a brother?" Harry asked knowingly.

"I... Yes." She said, a slight smile on her face. He shook his head.

"It's all right. I know he can be quite cocky and vain, not to mention a bit obnoxious if he thinks no one he doesn't like is watching. I didn't expect that everyone here would like him."

Lily sighed in relief. "I know. I don't mean to bad mouth your brother, but I have a strong reaction against him and he continuously rubs me the wrong way."

"Let's start over then," Harry proposed, before holding his hand out for shaking. "Harry Fleamont Potter." He'd started using his uncle's name as his middle name, as it would be quite odd to have his brother's first name as his middle one.

"Lily Jaina Evans." His mother introduced with a smile. "Nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too." Harry said. "I better go before my brother and his friends unleash pranks on my trunk. See you in the morning at breakfast?"

"Sure. Good night, Harry." She said, and Harry returned it, before she returned to her group of friends, who were waiting by the stairs with Hermione, Ginny and Luna. Harry smiled after her, glad his proper introduction to his mother had gone so well. It certainly seemed like they could be good friends, despite his father's behaviour. He made his way up to the dorm. Aside from the beds of himself, the marauders, Ron, and Neville, there were three others. On each bed was a plaque with their names, and he recognised his own, those of the marauders, and the three other residents: Gaetan Moliere, Vincenzo Santorini, and Joshua Sweet. Spotting his trunk in front of his own bed, he sat down to take off his boots.

Only to practically jump up when someone leaned over the bed's canopy. It was a dirty, grizzly boy with thick stubble on him, wearing omniculars with lenses like a microscope in front of his eyes, and a lit muggle flashlight mounted next to it.

"You have disturbed the dirt." The figure glared at him, speaking with a French accent. "What?" Harry asked, only to be pulled aside by the figure as it landed.

"You have disturbed the dirt!" The boy repeated in a panic, pulling off Harry's sheet, revealing multiple heaps of dirt laying on his bed, each with a miniature flag of a country planted into it. Harry shared a look with Neville and Ron, who looked just as confused and shocked at the boy's behaviour as he did. The marauders, on the other hand, were snickering away, and Harry scowled at them. They'd known of this boy and neglected to warn him, the buggers. For that alone he'd ask his mother to help make them pay.

"Dirt gathered from around the globe, spanning the centuries." The boy lamented as he made the piles a bit neater, before gasping in shock. "What have you done?! England must never merge with _**France!**_ " The boy returned his glare to Harry. "Who are you? Who sent you? Speak Up!"

Harry, overwhelmed by the boy's tirade, barely managed out an "Uh..."

Evidently, this didn't do for the French boy. "Bah. I will find out soon enough." And with a span of two seconds, he'd gotten out a small pincher, grabbed one of Harry's fingers and retrieved a speck of dirt from underneath it, then put the speck under his omniculars for examination. Harry flinched when he did it, but otherwise looked on as the boy mumbled.

"This comes from an Englishman born in Godric's Hollow, raised by an aunt, uncle, and a son, the latter two too fat to live beyond the age of fifty, you own an owl, a snowy one, third-born in a nest of seven."

The French kid turned to Harry, frowning as he looked at the dirt. Harry stared at the kid in wonder. How had he divined all of that from a speck of dirt? "You have the makings of a half blood," Harry flinched when the boy actually tasted it with his tongue. The boy immediately intensified his glare. "And a _flyer_." He practically spat the word.

Harry grew even more confused, not seeing how that could be considered something bad. But the boy, now in a frenzy, grabbed Harry's trunk and threw it into his arms.

"This is an _**outrage!"**_ The boy cried out, pushing Harry rapidly and multiple times towards the exit from the dorm. "You must leave at once! Go, go, go, go, go!" The boy kept pushing. Harry tried to push back or step out of the way, but with his hands full with his trunk, the boy's surprising strength, and the others not helping because they were too busy laughing, he made almost no headway. He was almost out the door when he bumped into something, and he turned around and looked up. The French boy also immediately looked up, his frenzy momentarily forgotten.

Only to be met by the tallest and most muscular fifth year Harry had ever seen. He was bald, dark-skinned, and had a twinkle in his brown eyes that was a mix between amusement and exasperation as he looked down on Harry and the short and fat French boy.

"Uh oh, sat in the dirt didn't you?" He asked knowingly. When Harry nodded, the taller boy shook his head and stepped around Harry to face the French boy.

"Moliere, what did I tell you about being nice to the new kids?" He asked, waggling his finger at Moliere as if at a naughty kid. When Moliere tried to speak up the taller boy got something out of his pocket. "Stay back! I've got soap, and I'm not afraid to use it."

To Harry's amazement, Moliere actually shied away from it, holding his hands up in defence as he hissed angrily at it. When the boy finally started to slowly retreat to his own bed, the taller kid threw the bar of soap after the kid for good measure. It struck the boy's arse, who actually jumped up on shock and scurried to his own bed.

"Back, foul creature!" The taller kid called. "Back to the pit from which you came!"

Moliere finally made it to his bed, stopping only to take his pillow before scurrying under the darkness of his bed. A second later the flashlight on his goggles went out as he hid underneath the bed.

"Sorry about that." The taller boy said as he turned to Harry's bed, flicking his wand as he moved the various heaps of dirt in a neat way to Moliere's own bed. "He's nice and helpful once you get to know him, but we're half convinced his mother paired with a mole most of the time."

"It's alright." Harry said, finally recovering enough to put his trunk back in front of his bed and clean himself up. "I'm Harry Potter." He introduced himself, before pointing to Ron and Neville. "These are Ron Beckett and Neville Longbottom."

"Joshua Sweet." The taller boy introduced himself, giving each of them a firm handshake. "The guy over there is Vinnie Santorini. Never leave your potions alone with him, as he's sure to make a bomb out of 'em."

"At least I know what I want to do when I get my NEWTs," the final boy said. He was about Remus' height, had a thick moustache, though not as big as the rotund professor's, and had all black hair covering most of the top of his head. The boy spoke with a thick Italian accent. "I mean, what's wrong with loving to blow things up?"

"There is when you aid these four" he pointed to the marauders, who were all still laughing from Moliere's antics "with blowing up half the dungeons. How else would they get muggle fireworks?"

"Be happy I didn't make them dynamite." Vinnie returned. "Or the school would've collapsed."

Harry chuckled at his dorm mates' banter. He'd sometimes wondered who in the hell could tolerate the marauders as dorm mates. But he should've figured that was only because they were as crazy as those four.

"Interesting year mates." Harry commented. James nodded in agreement.

"Welcome to the Hogwarts fifth year class of 1975, gentlemen." He said. "Make yourself at home."

* * *

 ** _Conference room, top floor, Potter Manor, England_**

 ** _September 2nd_**

Charlus sighed, as the group had gathered for the second time just moments ago. The results since last meeting had been... mixed. There was a big heap of good news and a big heap of bad news.

The good news was that they had gathered a lot of intelligence on You-Know-Who's forces in the last few weeks since the first meeting, thanks to Augusta and the volunteers ready to monitor the various locations. Many of the Wizengamot members turned out to be Death Eater supporters, if not outright members of the inner circle like Abraxus Malfoy, Claudius Nott, and the bastards Reginald Lestrange and his son Randolph. And with various volunteers from the Kingsley, Fletcher, and Jones families, to name a few, ready to monitor their manors for suspicious activity, combined with various tracking charms cast on anyone entering and leaving the wards... They'd identified a lot of members, including the recent initiates Theodore Nott, Lucius Malfoy, and Igor Karkaroff.

The bad news, however, consisted of two parts. For one, they learned how Dumbledore was involved in this _exactly_. Namely, he led a volunteer group of people who scouted out the ministry and Wizarding hotspots for Death Eater activity. The _Order of the Phoenix_ , the lot called themselves. Charlus had yet to see how they would respond to an actual attack, as there hadn't been any since they learned of its existence, but from the looks of it the Order went for quality instead of quantity. That's the impression Charlus got at least when he learned Head Auror Alastor Moody was a hardcore member, as well as Dorea's close friend Minerva McGonagall, both of whom were very skilled duelists.

Normally, the fact there were other people aside from them and the ministry fighting You-Know-Who would be considered a good thing. In fact, were it not led by Albus Dumbledore, he knew many of them would vote to have their respective factions merge, or at least work together quite closely. But Dumbledore was manipulative and controlling, not to mention inconsiderate of other people's thoughts in his planning. And he would most certainly _not_ tolerate Alliance Interference.

The second bit of bad news, or second and third, depending on how one looked at it, was that there was no intel on You-Know-Who himself, and the same went for his Horcruxes. The blasted man moved around too much for them to get a proper fix on his location, and he quickly undid the tracking charms before departing. The memories Harry had supplied since (since he got one memory of _his_ life every day) were mostly of his day-to-day life at Hogwarts for now. And while it was amusing to have blackmail with the fact Miranda McKinnon had in fact slept with him in her time at Hogwarts, it didn't help them determine where or what the Horcruxes were.

A second initiative had been taken during the meeting, however, that slightly made up for it. One or two prominent members of the alliance (that is, a Potter, Black, Bones, Longbottom, or Greengrass, all of whom were magical powerhouses) would be placed at each of the large magical hotspots in the UK that they knew of: The Ministry of Magic, Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Godric's Hollow, and Hogwarts. In addition, two dozen members of the remainder would always be on standby in case of an attack, so they had an instant response force to send out. It would reduce the number of people they had available to gather information, but that could be delegated to allies of the alliance that weren't yet full-fledged members.

Charlus sighed again. Two dozen families were members of the Great Alliance and willing to help in the actual battles, and at least two-third of them had multiple members of their own family aiding them. It wasn't the armies they'd once had at their disposal during the war with Grindelwald, but after the bloodbath of that war not everyone wanted to return to that kind of life. And instead, like Richard Croft and Archibald Davis, they donated their family fortunes or times and artefacts to the cause for study, like rituals on strengthening the magical cores or increasing the body's speed, to name a couple.

But it wasn't the kind of support Charlus needed. They already knew how they needed to stop You-Know-Who. They just needed to find the bloody things, and take him and his followers out, goddammit.

"Breathe." Hector admonished from behind him. "You're not supposed to be all tense like this. You might end up like Arcturus."

"Heard that, you mongrel." Arcturus said from across the room. While the less prominent families had left, Arcturus, Hector and Augusta, Hyperion and Agatha, and the Bones twins had stayed over, so the friends could catch up on old times.

"You were meant to, obviously." Seraphina returned cheekily from her seat, where she, Augusta, Agatha and Dorea sat drinking tea. "We needed to test your hearing, after all."

"I should curse you." Arcturus said, slowly turning away from his conversation with Hyperion and Deckard. The smile betrayed he wasn't _that_ badly insulted. "Might kick the filter on your mouth back into gear."

"You mean the filter that keeps the cum out?" Seraphina asked. Arcturus' retort died in his throat, and all male and most females in the room had to look away to hide their blushes.

"Phinie, you crass wench." Deckard sputtered. "Save that talk for when you actually find a man, for Helga's sake!"

"I don't know, I seem to have my pick of the lot here." She smiled, gesturing to the others in the room. Arcturus finally cracked, and had to look away to avoid becoming a stuttering mess. Indeed, Seraphina was quite a beautiful woman for her age, and combined with her skills with her wand, on a broom, and her body (in martial arts, Charlus quickly corrected in his mind before he could get any disturbing thoughts), there were many men who wanted her as a wife. The daily pile of marriage contracts she received from across Europe was proof of that.

But both he and Arcturus were happily married, not to mention brothers in arms alongside Hyperion, Hector, and Deckard, and he had a duty to save his brother. "Does that mean you consider sharing a bed with your own brother, then?" He asked. To his satisfaction, it was Seraphina's turn to blush profusely, the tint matching her red hair.

"So what had your knickers in a knot, then?" Deckard asked before the situation could get more embarrassing. Not that he didn't have a stake in this. After all, it was his sister being accused of incest. Then again, that was always a risk if you limited yourself to Purebloods only. Six out of ten would turn out to be your cousins or other relatives.

"Just my frustration with our lack of progress on the Horcruxes." Charlus finally admitted. "I had hoped we'd have at least one sign of them by now."

"Charlus, it's been three weeks." Hector said exasperatedly. "I know you want to have success quickly, but this would have been too fast. And a trap, more likely. Give it time."

"If we haven't found one by Christmas, we can always ask your brother to come back." Hyperion reassured. "He wanted to retire and sell it in a few years anyway. Might as well have his successor take over early. If nothing else, I could take over remotely for a while, and Floo over daily should it be necessary."

Charlus nodded. That put his mind a bit more at ease. Fleamont was one of the experts, aside from Richard, who was actively researching Horcruxes. It would feel a bit better if their (soon to be) experts among them were close at hand.

"I'll do that." Charlus said. "It's safer anyway. No chance of the memories Harry sends through being intercepted when he can just pass them through the Floo."

"Good." Arcturus said, before raising his glass. "Now, let's forget this grim mood, and celebrate our long-overdue reunions. To the Rascals!"

"To the Rascals!" Everyone toasted, and for the remainder of the night the bad mood had been forgotten.

* * *

 **That's it. Next Chapter: a taste of first week, a reminder Voldemort's out there and very strong, and discussions about reviving (or starting, considering the time jump) the DA, as well as more Snape**

 **see you then.**

 **Lucian Valerious**


	4. Chapter 4

**Back again! My most sincere for the delay, but my proofreader and I kept finding errors we needed to correct, which was tedious work.**

 **I have a minor announcement: Since this story will be focusing predominantly on Harry and his friends and family stopping Voldemort in this time, I find myself needing to make a side story. I noticed the story would simply get too full if I wrote every interaction, every full moon, every prank, every romantic moment, and every encounter in this story. It would simply get too long and tedious, and it wouldn't be something I would take as much time for than if I focused on how Harry and co would defeat Voldemort like in most stories. I'll be starting a side story (working title Second Chance: Through the Looking Glass, though that might change later) of oneshots, drabbles, and short storylines that'll focus on things like the intimate moments of pairings, pranks, extra lessons, and past and preset interactions not pertaining to the main story. Things like the Christmas holidays and halloweens, first full moon, first big prank, and first study session with Snape will be included, and I will take most if not all requests for encounters, but beyond that, it'll be diverted to there, since it'll be too full otherwise. Not that there won't be any romantic moments and such in this story (how would pairings work for the story if I didn't add them?) but this isn't, and never will be, a romance-centered story where half of it would be focused on Harry's feelings or Ginny's thoughts or whatever mostly attracts the focus and attention of Romance stories. I'm horrible at writing those.**

 **On a more pleasant note after that, I finally figured out who to pair Neville to (MAYBE). I won't tell who, that depends on the reaction you'll have on Chapter 6, but I'll give one hint: it'll be a very controversial pairing that in any other circumstances would be considered impossible and would have no chance of happening.**

 **As usual: I own nothing, and everything belongs to Rowling.**

 **Please Read and Review**

* * *

Chapter 4

 ** _Fifth year Girls dormitory, Gryffindor tower, Hogwarts Castle,  
 ** _Scottish Highlands. September 1st._**_**

It was... _nice_ in here, Ginny finally decided. Once she'd get used to sharing a dorm full-time with Luna, Hermione, Harry's mum, and three other girls, though she knew that could take a while. It wasn't that she didn't want it to instantly happen. On the contrary, she would love to have the number of friends Hermione seemed to have. The Patil twins, Fay Dunbar, not to mention Luna Lovegood and half of the Gryffindor male population of their time. Hell, even most of her brothers were on friendly terms with her at the least.

But it was impossible for Ginny to relate to people her own age. It hadn't always been that way, of course. Before coming to Hogwarts she was a lot like most other girls, if a bit tomboyish. Fussing over her annoying brothers and chores, and hair styles, riding brooms with Charlie, Bill, and the Twins (when the former two were around, anyway), and being an obvious fan girl for the boy-who-lived. But then her first year had happened, and she'd been possessed by that... That...

That _MONSTER_.

And even if she didn't have any control over her own actions, or couldn't even remember half of it, she knew. She always knew. The _monster_ had a tendency to think aloud in that Merlin-forsaken diary moments before it possessed her. And she always knew because of that. She knew when she snapped the necks of Hagrid's roosters. She knew when she entered the chamber and let loose the Basilisk to let it eat and petrify some more. And she knew when the Basilisk had found its mark.

Not only by the pleasure the _thing_ emitted then, though. No, she'd always been very strong-willed, even as a younger child. She'd tried to fight the control, tried to break free. For a time she even did it, throwing the diary away in Myrtle's bathroom and having a few days of reprieve before being compelled to steal it from Harry again.

But it was in those jubilant moments of the diary that its control sometimes snapped, and she could look and see who the victims-

No. Who _her_ victims were.

Mrs. Norris, Filch's bloody cat. It might be the biggest nuisance

of the school after Peeves, but even that cat didn't deserve that.

Colin Creevey, her own year mate. One who she shared her enthusiasm for Harry with, and who'd wanted to start a fan-club in Harry's honour with her.

Justin Finch-Fletchley and Nearly-Headless Nick: one of Harry's year mates and the Gryffindor ghost, respectively. Nick was always there to help her back then, eager to get the first years to the right classrooms on time and giving pointers in the right direction. And while she didn't know Justin very well, his face was now forever burned in her memory.

As were those of the final two victims aside from her. The petrified and shocked faces of Percy's girlfriend Penelope Clearwater, and Hermione herself, both of hem staring into Hermione's make-up mirror. Her own first female friend in Hogwarts, aside from Luna. One of the few who actually listened, and who saw her as something more than just Ron's little sister. Who gave her actual helpful advice when they spoke.

And that thing had made her petrify her friend.

Not to mention with how she'd blacked out a few weeks shortly after that, and had woken up not only to her knight in shining robes (well, not really, as they were covered in blood and grime) and a Phoenix, but a dead basilisk and a destroyed diary right behind her, which had seemingly done all this to the school. Most of the time, she knew in her head at least, there was nothing she could've done. Lucius Malfoy had slipped her that diary, and it was the _Monster Voldemort_ who had created it. It had possessed her, and while she had the will to fight it, at the time she didn't have the magical power to truly break the hold it had on her on her own.

But that didn't mean that at similar moments of reminiscence she didn't still feel the guilt. That it had been _she_ who had been used. That _she_ had been the conduit for the Horcrux. It sickened her that its magic had been inside her as it had been, and it was rare for her to have a complete night of undisturbed sleep. She still had nightmares, where she still heard his voice commanding her to do things. And evidently, she also received a permanent ability to speak to snakes out of the bargain, too. As if she needed any more reminders of that experience, aside from the fact her boggart nowadays mixed between a teenage Tom Riddle and the large snake that in this timeline was still sleeping in the underground, unexplored chamber.

All of that stuff, all that had happened in her first year at Hogwarts alone had forced her to mature incredibly quickly. So rapidly, in fact, that Ginny found she could no longer relate to other people of her year. They were still so childish, fussing over one's crush on a boy, or who had said that insult behind who's back, while Ginny had been possessed by a form of the darkest wizard alive- literally being overtaken by a piece of that bastard's soul. The troubles of her dorm mates paled in comparison to those, and she couldn't relate to her 'friends' anymore.

It was one of the reasons she hung around Harry, Hermione, and Ron so much. Like her, they also matured quite early for their age. True, Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon, as Hermione had once said, and she and Ron still argued often. Not to mention Harry's blindness and naivety considering how many people actually liked rather than hated him, especially of Ginny's sex. But they were always the first to understand the gravity of a situation. Even more so than the twins, who were at least two years older than Harry, and three years older than she was. They handled dangerous situations (like those that now almost seemed like a tradition for them) a lot better than most adults would. Hell, they did it even better than her mum and dad would.

And they weren't even seventeen.

And Harry did most of that all on his own. Quirrell, the Chamber, the Patronus that saved Sirius, the Tournament and the graveyard, the classes with Umbridge... She really wanted to look past his heroic acts and get to know the real him, she really did. But why did he have to make it so hard for her to get to know him by performing things so awesome and inspiring she automatically fell back onto her childhood shyness? Part of the reason she dated Michael was _because_ she wanted to grow out of the awkwardness and that she was able to hold a real conversation with him. To be a real friend instead of just Ron's little sister. And unless she could speak with him without falling into a stutter or fleeing the room, that was going to be very hard.

Well, no point lamenting it now. He was back in the past, with a chance to actually meet and interact with his parents, so he would be preoccupied for the next few weeks. Maybe she could try again then. A bit of advice from Hermione on how to approach him wouldn't hurt either. She shook her thoughts out of her head. If she kept this up she wouldn't be able to sleep at night, despite Miss Potter's Occlumency exercises to help empty her mind. Instead, she focused on what her dorm mates were doing at the moment, starting with the ones she already knew.

Hermione sat on her bed, organising her books by school-required, school books picked additionally, and books for amusement. Her clothes were neatly sorted in her trunk, and everything else was already done, as well. Luna, on the other hand, had started to draw one of the new dorm mates with a Muggle pencil, her wand tucked behind her ear as she worked. Ginny smiled a bit: say what you wanted about Luna, but damn she could make incredible art if she was allowed some space, time, and quiet. It would be odd to share the dorm with the two of them. Hermione, the one obsessed with books and facts, and Luna, the girl almost no one truly understood, and who was ready to believe in the absurd.

Then there were the other four. One of them was looking at another of them work, and had red hair a shade or two darker than Ginny's, and green eyes all too familiar. Lily Evans, to summarise her, was a more social and warm version of Hermione: a bit obsessed with grades, books, and a good image in the professor's eyes. Not that Hermione was cold in that sense, but Lily was just... warmer, friendlier. Ginny could see where Harry got his good character from.

Then there was Marlene McKinnon. The girl was a bit taller than most of the girls in their year, maybe two inches, and had black hair and blue eyes. If Lily was the bookworm, Marlene was the athlete. The girl was well built and worked out often. Barely ten minutes ago, she had done her evening routine of push-ups while her feet rested above her on the bed. She also played on the Gryffindor Quidditch team as one of the chasers, so Ginny planned to make an effort to be nice to the girl for the rest of the year. She wanted to be on the team this year, and it helped if you could get along with your team members.

Then there was the blond Mary Macdonald, who was sitting next to Lily, also watching the last girl work, both of them having their eyebrows furrowed in a mix of fascination and concern. During the walk up the stairs and the unpacking in the dorm, Ginny had learned two things: the girl was a chatterbox, constantly talking about other classmates whose names Ginny still had to remember, what she did this summer, who was attacked by Death Eaters last week... unless you had a very good distraction, the girl couldn't shut up. And second, she was Muggle-born. Not a surprise, really. Ginny faintly remembered a Natalie Macdonald also being sorted into Gryffindor in her third year, and the girl mentioned technically being a half-blood, so they could be related.

And the last was the one the girls were watching now as she worked. A petite Latina girl with just as many muscles as Marlene, Audrey Ramirez was a true tomboy. Even Ginny's acts of rebellion against her mother paled in comparison. The girl was wearing an overall, working on one side of the room that they had all cleared for her project. The beds now all stood on one side in the small room, close enough to the exit and the window that everyone could still get out and relax.

The girl's broken down motorbike, which she had unshrunk from her own pocket and put here to resume her project, was carefully being reassembled and fine-tuned from the last time she'd done this, taking up the entire other half of the room. Her father, a Muggle mechanic, had died when she was young and had a fascination for flying things. When Audrey had learned of the existence of magic, she'd magically sworn she'd not only finish the bike her father never could, but she would finish the dream he couldn't even begin: enchant it for him so it could fly.

And since it had been a magical vow, Audrey worked every day on it. And the other girls knew this as well, judging by the knowing glances Marlene sent their way.

"Ok," Audrey said, finally pulling herself from the underside of the bike on a small cart she'd transfigured from her trunk's lid. "She's finished and ridable."

"You mean it can fly?" Ginny asked in surprise. She hadn't seen the girl cast any spells whatsoever, aside from the occasional Wingardium Leviosa to keep something afloat in the air while she tried to press a screw or bolt into the frame with both hands. Did the floating come from Runes?

"No," Audrey said with disappointment. "But it can run again. At least I can ride it without shaking the bolts loose. I'll start the enchanting over the weekends."

"May I have a look?" Hermione asked, as she got up and edged closer, her hand outstretched, as Audrey replaced the engine housing itself.

"Only look, Bay. But don't touch nada," Audrey warned, batting Hermione's hand away. "That bike's sacred."

Hermione nodded and withdrew her hand, but she kept on looking like the others. And Ginny had to admit, when the bike was cleaned up it would likely look quite awesome. But that didn't mean it had to take up half their dorm.

Then again, if the enchanted Ford Anglia was the only thing left of her father and she'd sworn a magical oath to fix it, she would likely be working on it non-stop too. And she had to admit, all the beds lined up together this way to seem like one very wide bed did seem cosy.

* * *

 ** _Ministry of Magic Atrium, London_**

 ** _September 1st_**

Hector sighed for the umpteenth time, as his wife was currently in session with the Wizengamot. Well, not in session per se. The actual laws and debates of importance had been handled hours ago, and all that was left were the dozens of minor trials for muggle-baiting and the like - not something that required his absolute attention. So an hour ago he feigned an emergency at home, nominated Augusta his proxy on the spot, and left. He'd have gotten away with it, too, were it not for the fact that Arcturus, Hyperion, Charlus, Deckard and Seraphina, and numerous others of the Great Alliance had pulled the same stunt numerous times before in the previous months. As it was, he was merely sent scathing glares by Minister Bagnold and Tiberius Ogden (Dumbledore's temporary replacement as Chief Warlock, since the old man was at Hogwarts introducing the first years) and let loose on the world.

He did see the reasoning behind why at least one powerhouse had to be at each location. And he was quite proud to be considered one of those powerhouses, like his father Nicholas before him. But standing guard in the ministry atrium was about as boring as the Wizengamot session. The only difference here was that he could at least have some coffee here.

He grimaced, looking down into the cup he held. _Well, if this thin heap of shit-coloured piss can be considered_ _coffee._

Another Floo of the employee's entrance flared up, and Hector looked up. He hoped Arcturus had managed to contact his granddaughters. They might hold the next lead to one of You-Know-Who's Horcruxes, or if they didn't, they could at least act as spies in Death Eater ranks. For while Bellatrix and poor Cissy had indeed been forced to join them due to their accursed marriage contracts to Death Eater sons their father forced them into, they were still loyal to House Black, and not as estranged from their family as Cyrus Greengrass was. Oh, if only Randolph hadn't followed in his father's footsteps...

Speaking of the man, he was walking towards Hector right now. Only, Hector saw, he was dressed in rather odd dark robes, and had a silver mask in hand. A mask he immediately put on.

The wand going up that cast the Imperius curse at the man checking their wands left no doubt about his intentions. As did the Floo going off a dozen times now, each of them depositing Death Eaters left, right, and centre.

This was an attack on the ministry.

Wasting no time, Hector cast three Patroni: One to Augusta, and one to each Baron. "Death Eaters led by Randolph in the Atrium. Dozens. Need help," he spoke, before sending them away. Curse Dumbledore for being so meddlesome and opportunistic, but his method of communicating by Patronus forms was ingenious.

And then the first real dangerous curse was cast at a guard, and the battle really ensued. Hector stunned the first Death Eater, and cast a powerful Piercing hex at his heart to finish him off. No need to allow Death Eathers to revive him later so he could curse allies in the back. He tried to hit Randolph next, but the coward ducked back into the crowd of his fellows and Hector lost sight of him.

The ministry instantly panicked as the battle commenced. The windows overlooking the statues and the atrium all closed and had shutters roll down to protect the occupants, while the masses on the floor all fled to the nearest place to hide, aside from the Aurors and guards of the DMLE. But it didn't happen fast enough, and Death Eaters were sending curses at the Ministry employees faster than they could track. People fell by the dozens as the curses hit the fleeing masses.

Then again, Hector wasn't mockingly called a one-man army for no reason. He set to work thinning the ranks, casting a massive Confringo and sending it to the heart of the group. To keep the Death Eaters on their toes he immediately grabbed one of his backup wands with his other hand, and cast a Bombarda Maxima on either side of the group, keeping the incompetent ones disoriented.

Of course, that left the competent ones, and Hector was immediately reminded why You-Know-Who admitted most of them into his inner circle. He was immediately forced to retreat to the cover of the fountain statues, as three of the more competent ones tried to take him on, while the less experienced scrambled to safety, trying to figure out what was going on.

A loud crack echoed throughout the atrium, and Hector was relieved to see Hyperion and Arcturus apparate into the atrium at the same time. More cracks followed, and in total two dozen volunteers for their alliance, including the Smiths and Shacklebolts, followed them in fighting against the Death Eaters. They split off into two groups, with Hyperion and Arcturus erecting cover by conjuring wall or transfiguring debris into large objects to hide behind, while Anamaria and most of the others kept the enemy occupied.

With so many people now helping the ministry fight the Death Eaters (which had stopped appearing finally, and numbered in over seventy in total, all masked), the Aurors, guards, and Law Enforcement Officers all came out of their cover and joined the fray. But this didn't help the situation at all, in Hector's opinion. The Atrium was now one big chaotic mass of confusion, and it wouldn't be difficult for a Death Eater or two to slip out and further infiltrate the ministry. No, they needed order.

He raised himself out of his own cover and headed for the nearest small group of Death Eaters, who happened to be fighting Alastor Moody, the head of the Auror office and the only one above Hector in the Auror hierarchy before Longbottom attained his lordship. Moody was outnumbered four to one, but that didn't seem to stop him. The paranoid Auror dodged and weaved as he cursed the Death Eaters who tried to overwhelm him. An Avada Kedavra was cast at incredible close proximity, but Moody leant away from it and let it strike the Death Eater behind him. At the same time, one of his other attackers tried to cast the Cruciatus on Moody. But again the Auror was quicker, grabbed the first, and literally used him as a human shield before casting a stunner followed by an Incarcerous.

The last one finally got the better of Moody, and hexed his leg from behind him, knocking him over. Moody toppled, his leg hurt so badly it couldn't support his weight. But the Auror didn't let it stop him. With a grimace, he immediately rolled over and shielded himself from further attempts by the Death Eater to kill him. The Death Eater snarled, and an unforgivable was on the tip of his tongue.

Hector finally managed to reach this bit of the fray and tackled the Death Eater. Hector gave one solid punch to the face, shattering the mask and stunning the Death Eater, before snapping the wand in two with a careful chop of his hand. Then, while quickly grabbing his knuckle dusters and putting them on, he immediately pummelled the Death Eater's with his fist until the neck was almost entirely punched through, which with his heavily spiked knuckle dusters didn't take long at all. Ten seconds, eleven tops.

Hector finally got up and shook the blood off his hand, before turning to help Moody.

"Down already?" Hector asked, holding out a hand to help Moody up.

"Stuff it, Longbottom!" Moody growled, though there was less bite in it than usual. "Get me to the fountain. My leg's busted, and I can't duel like this. Get me a healer."

Hector looked down at Moody's left leg and instantly paled. That was an acidic flesh-eating curse on his leg. Invented by Reginald himself, it ate away at the flesh and prevented any form of magical healing from growing it back. The bastard must have taught it to some of the other Death Eaters. Hector silently performed the counter curse, but he already knew it was too late. Most of the leg was eaten to the bone, and only hanging on due to a few thin patches of flesh connecting them. Frankly, it would be a miracle if Moody kept the leg below the knee. It _was_ a miracle the Auror only grimaced in pain as Hector hurried Moody to the cover behind the massive fountain and the statues, and wasn't screaming at the top of his lungs, as Hector himself would've.

"Stay here, and don't take any risks a Bones would," Hector warned Moody, who simply nodded and grimly leant over his cover, casting the occasional curse at distant Death Eaters before ducking back down. His immediate task accomplished, Hector turned to the next group, and relaxed slightly when he saw Arcturus. The man, on first glance, seemed outmatched; he was grappling with one wizard for his wand, while another hung around his neck, attempting to bite him, while a third tried to curse him from the side. But Arcturus didn't need his help. The man was a _Black_ , and Blacks were extremely violent when pushed. And Arcturus was definitely being pushed.

The man let go of the wand with one hand, only to give an elbow to the one hanging around his neck, dazing and dislodging the wizard. This gave an opportunity for him to grab the wand again, and force it to the side. He headbutted the wizard he was grappling with for that wand (by pure chance or not Hector wasn't sure, dodging a curse from the third assailant), pointed it at the other opponent beside him, and forced the man into performing the wand movement for a Reducto.

While it wasn't particularly powerful, Arcturus's aim was true. The curse hit the Death Eater's wand hand, and he screamed in pain as it practically exploded. Arcturus used the moment to lift the one in front of him over his head, only to violently bring him down on his knee, breaking the back before rolling the body off of him. He also stepped onto the hands for good measure, breaking them and ensuring he couldn't hold a wand properly. He nonchalantly turned to Hector, finally noticing his friend.

Who immediately cast a Piercing Hex at the one with a ruined hand, as he attempted to raise another wand with his remaining hand. The man fell down with a new hole between his eye and nose. "Missed one," Hector said simply, and Arcturus shrugged in indifference. In the heat of the moment the Baron didn't care who stopped the enemy, as long as it was done.

"We need to rally!" Hector yelled over the sound of all the curses and incantations being exclaimed. "We're never going to win properly in this mess."

"Agreed," Arcturus said, before casting a Sonorous.

" **EVERYONE! RALLY NEAR THE STATUES! KEEP THE BASTARDS OUT OF THE MINISTRY PROPER!** " Arcturus ordered at the top of his lungs, and Hector put his hands to his ears. Man, the man could shout. And amplified with a Sonorous, it was a wonder Hector wasn't deaf yet from that shout.

But it seemed to have worked. People started to fall back, and aside from a handful of stragglers two distinct groups began to form: the Death Eaters, who still tried to push for the chaos, and the defending people of the Great Alliance and the Ministry, who formed a large group.

Hector sighed in relief when he saw the latter were more numerous, even if also more heavily wounded.

Of course, this tactic had its own disadvantage. Everyone could hear what Arcturus wanted others to do, including the Death Eaters. And with so many people now jam-packed together to defend the small choke point that was the fountain, it would be devastating to be caught in the path of an unforgivable or something explosive here. Even if you dived out of the way now, someone else would take the fall. Not to mention, someone could alter their voice so they sounded like Arcturus and countermand those orders, but those were risks the Baron was apparently willing to take.

"Spread out! One explosion and we lose a dozen people!" Arcturus called, as the hexes continued to fly his way, and he was duelling two rather tenacious Death Eaters alongside Hector. A single malevolent orange glint in the eyes visible through the mask of the right one told Hector all he needed to know.

Antonin Dolohov led this bit, alongside Reginald Lestrange. It would explain the skill being displayed in front of him now, as well as how the Death Eaters were so organised in a fight. Hector got a better grip on his wand, and diverted Reginald's attention away from Arcturus, so the Baron could focus on Antonin.

While none of the alliance had ever met the man personally, his reputation was the stuff of legend. Aside from Dumbledore and You-Know-Who, Antonin was reputed to be one of the most powerful wizards of England, and had the experience to back it up, to boot. Antonin was a rookie ministry soldier in the war against Grindelwald when it ended, but got a taste for the bloodlust it inspired in most of the men. He'd instantly joined the international duelling circuits when the war ended, and while being one of the smaller contestants in the ring, quickly rose through the ranks for his magical power, quick reflexes, and stamina, to the point of being six-time world champion in a row before disappearing to join the Death Eaters. And now, combined with the experience from the arenas and the spell repertoire that would impress even most Blacks, he was a true member of His Inner Circle, and one of his deadliest agents to boot.

Hector glared, pleased he was "blessed" to be the one dealing with Reginald Lestrange. Lestrange was another of the talented ones. One of Arcturus's longtime friends in Slytherin alongside Hyperion and Archibald Davis, he was a talented duelist. Originally he'd been a member of the Rascals, one of the core members, even! The man had been the one to keep the others in a happy mood. True, his pureblood views were nearing the radical, but they never interfered with his company. Even when Richard Croft's daughter, Lara, proved to be a squib, Reginald did not sway from their side. On the contrary, he and his elder cousin Leta visited the house of Croft more often, and doted the child with special attention. And he was so caring and sweet and careful with the children... half of the men in the alliance back then deemed him worthy of being the godfather of their child for it. Heck, the man had even adopted his son Randolph, a man barely twelve years younger than him, and the man's own sons Rudolphus and Rabastan, the former of the three Hector had discovered to actually be a Muggle-born instead of the half-blood he'd claimed to be.

That was why his betrayal and the joining of You-Know-Who hurt so much. He'd been swayed by the Mulcibers, his views on Blood Supremacy drawn out to the extreme. And one of Reginald's flaws was that he was always honest about his intentions regardless of what people thought of them, at least when one wasn't in a duel with him. He never held his views to himself, and the tensions between the various families thickened. Even Arcturus, who didn't keep a close watch on his children's and grandchildren's own views on the matter, felt uneasy whenever the head of House Lestrange showed up. Until finally Reginald severed all contact with them, and was sighted by Anamaria Shacklebolt among You-Know-Who's ranks three weeks later, laughing while torturing squib _children_ of the Figg family to insanity. He'd had a bull's eye on his back ever since, and never dared approach the Alliance families on his own.

So Hector was pleased he didn't have to hold anything back when Lestrange started to try and curse him into oblivion. No, scratch that. He was bordering on _ecstatic_. Hector didn't worry about organising the troops anymore; Crouch was already in the crowd Hector had glimpsed when they began to rally near the fountain, and for all of his faults and indiscriminately incarcerating people for being Death Eaters he was a good leader. He would ensure people didn't break rank. No, he and Reginald would get to settle their score.

Hector launched his family's characteristic piercing hex at Lestrange's heart, determined to end the fool's life for good. But Reginald (Hector cursed the Alliance for training the bastard so well) instantly rolled to the side and launched a curse of his own. Hector flicked it aside back in Reginald's vague direction, and snarled when it went too high to hit one of the other Death Eaters. The opponent with a single good eye left snarled in turn and tried to keep him on his toes by casting a Crucio at Hector's feet. Hector had to admit it was smart. Even if it hit the ground, the blast of masonry torn away by the curse would pepper him and keep him distracted, leaving him open for a follow-up curse.

Hector jumped over it, landed in a roll to dodge two more curses from Lestrange, and sprang to his feet casting an Expelliarmus followed by an Accio at Lestrange's wand. The favoured technique failed, however, as Lestrange dodged the first and had too firm a grip on his wand for the second to work.

It went on like that for a quite a while. For while Hector despised the fact too much to admit it, he and Reginald were fairly evenly matched. Both their strengths lay in endurance and large magical reserves to call upon in order to outlast their opponent. It would only break off when they were both too tired to continue, or one admitted defeat and retreated. And Hector was too stubborn to do so.

Arcturus, meanwhile, deftly blocked any dark curse Dolohov threw at him. Like Antonin and Charlus Potter, Baron Black was a powerhouse, capable of casting immensely powerful curses in quick succession. His robes flowed swiftly, as he whirled around a curse a bystander threw at him, only to catch it on his wand and deflect it directly into Antonin Dolohov's face. Arcturus immediately banished the other Death Eater into another opponent, and he was surprisingly aided in this effort by Dolohov, who had lost his face mask to the curse and cast one of his own. Blood seeped from a cut below his left eye that started at the corner of his mouth and ended straight into his scalp, giving the illusion he was giving a wicked evil grin.

"Focus on the battle!" Antonin ordered, and any other Death Eaters looking to aid their commander immediately backed away. "Leave Black to me!"

Arcturus smirked, and cast a small tornado (small for him at least, as it was half again his height) at their feet, banishing it in Dolohov's direction. Before Dolohov could stop it, Arcturus sent an Incendio at it, turning it into a fiery whirlwind of death, as Deckard had once coined it. Antonin scowled and reluctantly apparated to a place out of its path. At that short a distance even he couldn't put out the fire and stop the small tornado before either could strike the Death Eater and either burn him or sweep him away.

Antonin immediately cast another curse at Arcturus before he could recover, breaking Arcturus's concentration on controlling the whirlwind, and it dissipated when he was forced to shield himself. Antonin pressed on the offensive, and kept casting curse after curse at Arcturus in an attempt to break his defences. Finally, one curse wasn't shielded against or dodged in time: a purple curse hit him in the left shoulder, making him stumble a bit. Arcturus snarled at the superior look Antonin now wore, and cast the most powerful banishing charm he'd ever cast in his life. It broke through Antonin's shield, and threw him back into the crowd of Death Eaters.

Arcturus used the opportunity, reached into a belt pouch, and threw an orange flask filled with a large amount of Exploding Potion (the closest thing magical people had to a hand grenade) at the area Dolohov and his Death Eaters currently occupied. Antonin's eyes widened as he eyed the flask, and immediately ducked below it. To make his point, Arcturus sent a Confringo at the flask for good measure, just as it sailed over the various Death Eaters.

The result was instantaneous. The following exploding fireball consumed at least fifteen people, a good chunk of the Death Eater ranks, wounded the next fifteen closest so heavily they were permanently out of the fight, and the shockwave threw everyone else in the atrium to the ground. Part of the ceiling collapsed on top of even more Death Eaters seconds after, the explosion having damaged some of the supports.

Arcturus and Hector shakily got to their feet, eyeing the crowd. He shook his head, trying to speed up the process that ended the ringing in his ears from that blast, as little good as it did. Fortunately, most of their side weren't injured beyond the curses the Death Eaters managed to land. Crouch was missing half of his small moustache, and it looked like Auror Robards would likely needa new piece of his ear sewed on, but at first glance Moody's leg seemed the most severe injury.

The same couldn't be said about the Death Eaters. Only half of them got up, and even most of those seemed to be hurt, judging by how they clutched their sides or limbs. The remainder all still lay on the ground, too wounded to move. Upon seeing this, and realising they were outnumbered and outmatched, most of them disapparated or Portkeyed away. Reginald gave one final sneer at Hector before he disapparated, while Dolohov grabbed the shoulder of a feral-looking man and a pair who might be the recently-graduated Carrow siblings before portkeying out as well.

In the end, they were left with only three people alive capable of answering questions before the anti-portkey and anti-disapparation wards could be restored. And even one of them managed to make it to the only working Floo before the Aurors and alliance members could stop him. Crouch managed to lock it down afterwards, but the damage was done. The remaining two conjured knives and stabbed their own hearts before anyone could stop them, leaving the Ministry nothing but a pile of bodies and a ruined atrium to work with.

"You alright?" Hector asked upon seeing the burned shoulder Arcturus favoured slightly. Arcturus grimaced as he took a pain relief potion.

"I'll live," Arcturus grunted honestly. "But I need to see my sister later today if I want to stay that way. Body-withering curse."

Hector nodded, and moved to ensure Arcturus would be one of the first to get help.

Hyperion strode over to them as Crouch and the other department heads started to clean up the mess and interrogate survivors about what had happened. The press wasn't here yet, as the main Floo was shut down, the wards prevented magical means of transportation, and the physical entrances were currently under a small pile of rubble created from the debris of the exploding potion. The edges of Hyperion's beard were charred from the near miss of a curse during the battle. "Where did you get that large a flask of Exploding Potion?" he demanded. "That could have brought the whole ministry down, you idiot!"

"Remember the flask Fleamont told me to drop near that large wall?" Arcturus asked. "The one in Berlin?"

"You mean the one for Tempelhof Airport or the one near the Moltke bridge?" Hyperion asked in concern that Hector shared. _Please,_ _let it not be..._

"The one for the muggle Zoo flak tower, where Dumbledore faced down Grindelwald and where we _thought_ Hitler had holed up." Arcturus answered, a small smirk on his face. "The one we didn't end up needing."

 _Damn._

Hector took a moment and settled his nerves. He knew from an off-handed comment at the time that the potion was powerful enough to bring down the side of the tower, opening it up for infiltration by alliance members. They didn't use it in the end, as Dumbledore and Fawkes lured Grindelwald to the top of that tower and faced him down before anyone could reach the tower, much less the roof where the two wizards were duelling. And Arcturus was reckless enough to use it in such a confined space?

Well, Hector now knew where Sirius got his recklessness from.

"Arcturus," a pale Hyperion whispered, having come to the same conclusion. You-"

"Don't you start," Arcturus growled, pointing a finger at Hyperion's chest. "I've been saving that potion for years. It's about time it finally got some use."

Hector sighed. The man had a point. It was of no use just wasting away, and what better way than to take a dozen or two Death Eaters along with it? Besides, they did survive it, even if it was a close call.

With a grunt, Hector walked away to find Anamaria and get her to guide them to her office Floo, not willing to argue the point any longer. It should still be open and allow them all to head back to Potter Manor. An hour later he was back at their improvised headquarters in Potter Manor. A dozen or flashes later, and Arcturus,

Hyperion, Augusta, and the Alliance response force were behind him. Wordlessly they all sat down as Dorea and others stormed in, determined to heal their wounds.

And each of them was unaware that in the ministry atrium a large number of the ministry personnel suddenly bled from their noses and reached for their throats. Or that a Death Eater buried alive finally succumbed to his wounds and dropped a vial, shattering it and letting the aerosol contents spread.

* * *

 ** _Fifth year Boys dormitory, Gryffindor tower, Hogwarts Castle,_** ** _Scottish Highlands._**

 ** _September 2nd_.**

Neville had to admit it when he woke up: life with Harry truly was an adventurous experience. He actually got to meet his parents while stuck in the past, and now he also got a chance to do his fifth year alongside them, even if they were a different year. That was something he would be eternally grateful for.

But still, if this is what Harry experienced on a yearly basis - and Neville knew enough of the previous years to know it was likely true - it was no wonder he was taking all this so well... even if the boy was a bit disturbed.

That was the only way Neville could call it. Harry pointedly ignored it, but they all saw the scars he wore when they all dressed for bed. The ones Neville had previously been unaware of because Harry had never actually changed while Neville was in the room. Neville was always up a lot earlier than Harry due to his voluntary work for extra credit in the Herbology greenhouses, often even earlier than the Gryffindor Quidditch practices, and Harry always went to bed either extremely early before anyone else in their dorm, or so late Neville was already asleep.

But now, when they had gone to bed at the same time, Neville was truly amazed and terrified at all the scars he bore. The scar from the Basilisk fang in his arm, the cut from Pettigrew and the graveyard that wouldn't go away for some reason. And let's not forget the writing on the back of his hand, the reason he now wore fingerless gloves nearly the entire day, only taking them off for showering and other watery activities. And they weren't even sure how far his emotional scarring went, though like Neville, Harry seemed to possess a low self-image, a lack of confidence in his own abilities, and was naturally shy. True, Charlus, James, his mum and dad, and grandpa Hector were working on that, as well as Neville's self-confidence, but he wasn't quite there yet according to them. The rest lay in believing that he could get the good grades his Gran always wanted him to get.

It made Neville wonder what kind of life Harry truly had. It did seem quite terrible, if this was how he was every day of the week. He never spoke much to strangers or people he didn't know well, unknowingly isolating himself in the process. Despite the attempts of others to get to know him, he only really was friends with Hermione and Ron before fifth year, and before the Troll incident, even she had been left out. The DA had helped him branch out a little, helped him get to know his year mates and some of the others better, but it wasn't as good as the usual friendships between people.

Maybe restarting the DA this year wasn't such a bad idea, regardless of how well their teacher taught this time around.

Neville got up with a sigh. There was only so much he could sleep in before he missed breakfast on his first day. And besides, he had an exercise he wanted very much to get to, in order to help Mr- no, _Remus_. He's practically your age now- during the transformations. And Neville hadn't told anyone, but since he got his new wand the spell work came a lot easier than before. So much so, in fact, that he already knew what his form would be, and was already practicing transforming. So far he only got the fur and ears down pat in one go, but the rest would come in time. The tips from Peter had certainly helped a lot.

Fortunately, the others were already up and gone (Remus, Vinnie, and Harry) or still asleep (Joshua, Ron, Sirius, Peter, and James), or in Moliere's case still hibernating underneath the bed, as Joshua jokingly called it, so he wouldn't get awkward questions on why he hadn't told them he was this far along already. He wanted for it to be a surprise for Remus, by Halloween at the latest.

He spent the next half hour practicing the Animagus transformation, and was pleased to note that he could now transform the fur and ears easily on command, and had started to get the hang of doing the tail. He would need help from one of the others if he wanted to do it perfectly in an instant, but if he got his estimates right, he should be ready in time for Halloween. And if not, he would ask James and Peter for help.

He took a brief shower, cursed when he found two of the three stalls were pranked by the Marauders to douse him in stink sap instead of water, and took a look at the time. 8:00, still an hour until the end of breakfast. But it would be close for the others if they didn't get up soon. Sighing and knowing he would be pranked at a later date for doing this, he walked up to Sirius's bed and tilted the mattress. The result was instant: Sirius rolled off the bed, and landed in a heap on the floor, waking up cursing loud enough it woke everyone else in the dorm, even the snoring Ron.

"Bloody hell, Neville!" Sirius said loudly. "What did you do that for?! Let a man sleep!"

"All right," Neville said. "If you want to miss breakfast every day to sleep in, I'll let you."

Panicked, Sirius cast a quick Tempus before swearing. "Bollocks!" He ran to the shower, desperate to get cleaned up in time. Only the door didn't open. Joshua had already slipped in while Neville explained the situation, and the bathroom was locked by him in revenge.

"Nuh-uh," James said, pushing Sirius away from the door. "If you go first you'll hog it, and it'll take an hour for us to get our turn. You go last." Sirius grumbled as he walked back to his bed, getting his clothes for the day out and ready.

Neville smirked as the others sat down to wait, and walked down to the common room. It was fairly empty, as most people were down in the Great Hall for breakfast. Neville made his way there as well, and wasn't surprised to see Harry and the others already at the table, talking with Hermione, Ginny, and who Neville guessed was Harry's mum, judging by how much Harry was looking at her. Luna and Vinnie were further back along the table, talking with a Latin-American girl from their year Neville recognised from yesterday. He sat down next to Harry, opposite Hermione who was perusing her Arithmancy book between bites.

"Sirius is up," Neville said. "Fair warning: he might be in a foul mood."

"He always is when someone else wakes him up," Remus smirked from Harry's other side. "But that in itself is a minor miracle to achieve. How'd you do it?" Neville looked down to hide his blush. He knew Ron was a heavy sleeper and Sirius happened to be the closest at the time, and the boy seemed to like pranks. But that didn't mean Neville liked the attention he would get for such things. "Tilted his mattress and rolled him to the floor."

Harry and Miss Evans's jaws dropped, and Remus laughed quite loudly. "Oh, that's a great idea for later. We usually resort to using some of Vinnie's less dangerous toys."

"So that's where all my cherry bombs go," Vinnie called from across the table. "I was wondering why my stash always seemed a bit smaller in the afternoons."

"Then maybe you should hide your stash better!" Remus shouted back.

Vinnie seemed on the edge of a retort, but it was swallowed when a large flock of owls entered the hall, and headed for various people around the hall: the morning mail had arrived. An owl headed for Hermione with the Daily Prophet, and Neville recognised Hedwig as well, who ended up landing with a small package for Harry. Harry smiled, gave Hedwig a large piece of his bacon, and put the package in his bag.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Harry's mum asked.

"It's a book for self-study for a transfiguration project," Harry answered, giving a brief but knowing glance at Remus, and Neville instantly understood. "I'll look when I have more time on my hands."

Harry's mum ( _Lily_ , Neville finally remembered her name!) nodded, and returned to her breakfast.

"Shit," Hermione said, making everyone from their time look up in shock, even Luna from across the table. It had to be bad. Hermione never swore. Even when her life was uprooted and they were brought to another time he couldn't remember hearing Hermione swear. If she did so now things really had to have gone to shit. But he wouldn't comment on it. He wasn't Ron Weasley.

"What is it?" Harry asked in warranted concern. Wordlessly, Harry was handed the Daily Prophet, and Neville began to read over his shoulder. The front page was dominated by a single article, as well as a photo of his grandfather and Baron Arcturus Black duelling two Death Eaters, one of whom seemed remarkably similar to Dolohov, in the foreground, with numerous other duels between the Ministry forces and dozens of unknown volunteers (members of the Rascals' Great Alliance, Neville realised) against the Death Eaters in the background.

 ** _A TRAVESTY OF TERROR: HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED'S FORCES ATTACK_**

 ** _MINISTRY!_**

 _By Barnabas Cuffe_

 _Yesterday evening, there_ _was an attack on the Ministry of Magic by over a hundred members_ _of You-Know-Who's forces. This travesty occurred at 18:24, in the middle_ _of a Wizengamot meeting. It is noted by this reporter that this was_ _one of the few times Albus Dumbledore, famed Leader of the Light,_ _was not present that evening, currently occupied by the beginning_ _of the new school year and the Sorting that happened at his school_ _the exact same night._

 _At the specified time, the Floo Network was briefly used to the_ _point of overcapacity, as it dispelled dozens and dozens of Death_ _Eaters into the Atrium. This reporter, who happened to be present_ _for a promised article on the Quidditch World Cup and the reaction_ _of the Department of Magical Games and Sports to England's recent_ _loss against Kenya, saw them Imperius the security guard assigned_ _to check wands, before a bystander suddenly started casting curses_ _at them, notifying the entire hall of their presence. Accusations_ _that these forces were led by Wizengamot member Reginald Lestrange,_ _his son Randolph, fellow Wizengamot member Claudius Nott, and_ _Undesirable number 4, Antonin Dolohov, are so far unconfirmed._

 _For the start of it, the Ministry's defensive forces appeared_ _overwhelmed by the lightning-fast attack, and the Death Eaters_ _briefly managed to gain control of the Atrium while the Aurors, led_ _by Head Auror Alastor Moody and the head of the DMLE Bertemius_ _Crouch Senior, were forced to retreat in order to protect the access_ _to the rest of the Ministry. It wasn't until the arrival of absent_ _Lords Hyperion Greengrass and Hector Longbottom, as well as Baron_ _Arcturus Black the third, that the tide began to turn, as they_ _brought numerous volunteers with them who immediately began to push_ _the intruders back. Baron Black, a known veteran of the war against_ _Grindelwald, immediately began to rally the Ministry forces and_ _helped put them on the offensive once again. The battle lasted for_ _over ten minutes, according to this reporter's count, before an_ _unexpected massive explosion rocked the Atrium, destroying the Floos_ _spread throughout the atrium and the visitors and employee entrances_ _into the ministry and ending up killing over two dozen Death Eaters_ _and wounding all the others to the point they all retreated en_ _masse. As far as this Reporter knows, none could be taken alive for_ _questioning, the only two prisoners committing suicide to prevent_ _He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's secrets from leaking to the ministry._

 _Baron Black and his forces all apparated away, as well as Lords_ _Greengrass and Longbottom, to places unknown. But that wasn't the_ _extent of You-Know-Who's attack. Barely a minute after they had_ _left, and when the ministry wounded and Wizengamot lords had been_ _evacuated to Saint Mungo's, one of the final Death Eaters too wounded_ _to fight released a terrible potion with his dying breath into the_ _Atrium, which in the end killed half the Auror corps and put another_ _quarter out of commission for months before Mr Crouch detected it_ _and had it counteracted and dispelled from the Atrium. The name of_ _this potion is unknown to this reporter, but the observed effects_ _included (but not limited to): bleeding from the facial openings_ _such as eyes, nose, ears, and mouth; vomiting; internal bleeding;_ _and hallucinating and reliving one's worst moments, memories, and_ _sins. There were additional symptoms, but for the sake of the_ _immature readers they are not described in detail._

 _In addition to this, numerous Aurors were killed by various curses_ _cast by Death Eaters, the Unforgivables among them. Another new_ _curse noted by this reporter is one that caused a victim to bleed_ _from their nose as well, before they were paralysed and catatonic_ _with fear. While the curse is unknown, Mr Crouch seemed very concerned_ _by this new curse, which has hospitalised thirteen Aurors, and it_ _is suspected he intends to request that Minister Bagnold classify_ _them as a possible fourth Unforgivable, considering how horrible_ _the effects appear to be and how no one either saw the spell being_ _cast, or saw it blocked._

 _Due to the fact both were handling the situation in the atrium, Mr_ _Crouch and Minister Bagnold, who arrived later on the scene by the_ _Floo in her own office, were unavailable for comment. When asked,_ _some Aurors were willing to comment. Rufus Scrimgeour, a Junior_ _Auror recently graduated from the Auror Academy, told me: "This was_ _a horrible act. A direct attack on the ministry! Outrageous! I am_ _most certainly thankful Baron Black arrived when he did, or things_ _would have gotten much worse." This comment was added to by Mr_ _Arthur Weasley, a junior member of the Department of Misuse of_ _Muggle Artefacts who aided the Aurors and Law Enforcement Officers_ _in the battle for the Atrium: "It was good Baron Black came to our_ _aid. Given how outnumbered we were in the atrium he very possibly_ _saved our lives by bringing reinforcements. If he has reunited the_ _Great Alliance in order to fight against You-Know-Who, I won't_ _complain!"_

 _In the end, word reached me from Senior Auror Anamaria Shacklebolt_ _that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was reduced to a_ _tenth of its strength because of this attack, with over half their_ _number dead to the potion and new curse, and most of the remainder_ _hospitalised, including Head Auror Alastor Moody, whose left leg_ _was hit with an acidic curse and will likely need to be amputated._ _It is noted by this reporter that this leaves a very small force_ _to fight You-Know-Who should he attack again, and it would leave_ _public places like Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade woefully underdefended,_ _even if the entire force were deployed to either area. Citizens are_ _advised to leave their houses as little as possible, and to report_ _any suspicious activity to the Auror Department._

 _This publication will report more on this story as it unfolds._

 ** _For a brief History of You-Know-Who and his known followers, please_** ** _see page 3.  
For Baron Black and his questionable history as leader_** ** _of the controversial Great Alliance, as well as its known members,_** ** _page 4.  
For the list of known casualties among the ministry forces_** ** _and the Death Eaters killed in the battle, page 7.  
_** ** _For speculations_** ** _on how the ministry will respond to this attack with their numbers_** ** _greatly reduced, page 8._**

Neville looked up at Hermione, pale with this news. Gran had told him there had been a massive attack that left the Ministry grossly understaffed, and leaving Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix as the only real fighting force against _him_. But to see how badly it was reduced to nothing, to see how badly things got in the war? He never realised it was this bad. Even Dumbledore looked very concerned as he read the paper when Neville glanced at the Staff table.

"This is bad," Remus said, just as pale. "Very bad."

"No kidding," Sirius said, his tone the same as his name. Neville had been so engrossed in the article he hadn't noticed his dorm mates, as well as his parents, sit down beside them. "I bet my cousin Bellatrix is enjoying reading this, how her precious master managed to nearly destroy the Ministry's abilities to stop him."

"What do we do?" Alice asked. "If this is what can happen to the Aurors, what chance do we stand?"

"She's right," Ginny said, looking at Harry. "Right now, we know only enough to barely survive. But we need to know how to fight back. And someone needs to teach us." She kept looking pointedly at Harry as she said this. Neville immediately understood the message she was trying to bring across: Harry needed to restart the DA.

Harry got the message as well, for he instantly refuted it. "I'm sure Professor Clarke will teach us how to fight back against them."

"Harry, merely class training isn't going to be enough," Hermione pressed. "You heard James; Professor Clarke is going to focus more on combining potions and defence rather than spell work. You are the best of the six of us in defence. We _need_ additional lessons."

"And I liked those lessons," Luna said, as she and the others of their year joined their part of the table. "It was like having more friends than usual, when you have those lessons."

Harry, however, still tried to squirm out of it. "But I'm not that good a teacher at Defence. And you saw how disastrously it ended last time."

"Umbridge isn't around this time to ruin it, mate," Ron pressed. "And don't you dare pull the 'I'm not good' argument. At age eleven, you defeated your first troll, you got past a Cerberus, faced down a massive lethal plant, survived an encounter with a wraith, and took down your first dark wizard."

"And when you reached the age of twelve," Ginny pressed on, despite the horrified looks of the Marauders and the astonished looks ofthe others. "You managed to escape the biggest Acromantula in history, stopped a sixty-foot snake when it tried to kill you, and ended up saving me from possession by the only man _Voldemort_ " Ginny ignored the gasps of most people, as well as the remarks and queries that she dared speak his name "trusted with his most valuable possessions."

"And when we were thirteen," Hermione continued, realising they were on a roll to stop Harry from objecting. "You helped a wrongfully convicted man escape from the authorities, survived a werewolf encounter, and your Patronus drove back a hundred Dementors."

"You what?!" The Latina girl asked, and the eyes of the others widened as well in astonishment. Neville took his turn. "And that's not all," Harry groaned, and buried his face into his arms, his breakfast forgotten beside him. "At fourteen he outflew a dragon, swam with the merpeople to rescue

"And that's not all," Harry groaned, and buried his face into his arms, his breakfast forgotten beside him. "At fourteen he outflew a dragon, swam with the merpeople to rescue this idiot," he patted Ron on the shoulder, who swatted it away with a smirk, "and survived an encounter with You-Know-Who and his Inner Circle on his own."

"Bullshit," Vinnie called, and Moliere nodded in agreement. "No way would he let that insult lie. He'd be hunting you down for the hurt to his pride."

Neville nodded in agreement. "And you think he got the lightning bolt scar from head butting a fanged frisbee?"

Everyone quieted down their protests after all that, and he saw they were beginning to see Harry in a different light. A far better light, if he could see the looks of admiration Frank, Alice, and Joshua sent his way.

"And last year, when the tutor of our group was a toad-like hag who liked to torture us with lines," Luna pointedly looked away from Harry's gloved hands as she said this "Harry took it upon himself to teach us Defence. We even mastered the Patronus charm ourselves because of him. In fact, we joined Hogwarts simply because we thought it was safer here."

"You all can cast a corporeal Patronus?" A voice asked behind them, and they all turned around to see a sceptical McGonagall standing over them. Neville frowned, and saw that half their table, and even some of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs who had been listening in on their conversation, were looking at them curiously. Evidently, people had been eavesdropping.

"I can, professor," Harry said softly, not looking her in the eye. "Learned it from one of my tutors when we ran into Dementors."

"Then please, demonstrate," McGonagall said, her tone indicating she didn't believe he could do it. Neville couldn't blame her: it was unheard of for someone as young as Harry to master a corporeal one. It was taught in sixth and seventh year, but almost no one mastered a corporeal one while still at Hogwarts.

But Harry proved her wrong. He simply stood up, raised his wand, and said the incantation "Expecto Patronum." A second later, to the shock of the entire hall, and the surprise of even Dumbledore, a white misty stag emerged from Harry's wand, which moved closer so McGonagall could inspect it.

It was joined a second later by Luna's hare Patronus, and soon after, Hermione, Ginny, and Ron all cast their otter, horse, and jack russell terrier Patroni as well. Then it was Neville's turn. Remembering Harry's lesson on focusing on your happiest memory, he focused on hearing his parent's voice for the first time, when he actually got to meet them here, he sighed and said "Expecto Patronum."And no one was as shocked as Neville when a wolf Patronus formed

And no one was as shocked as Neville when a wolf Patronus formed from the white mist emerging from Neville's wand, which joined the five other animals.

 _He'd done it. He'd actually done it. He'd cast a corporeal Patronus._ _And on the first try, even!_

The great hall was silent for a moment, as the Patroni faded one at a time. Then, Flitwick jumped onto his table and started clapping as much and loud as he could. He was instantly followed by Dumbledore, whose eyes twinkled madly as he stared at them inquisitively, and soon the rest of the hall joined them. Even the Slytherins clapped for them, reluctantly impressed by the impressive bout of magic displayed in front of them.

"Wonderful, wonderful!" Flitwick congratulated loudly. "Twenty points each for a masterful display of the Patronus charm! Do come visit me after your Charms class so we can talk about it in more detail. I would very much like to hear about your tutoring."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement, as he sat back down and holstered his wand. Neville instantly followed, as did the others. He cast a brief look at the others. The Marauders, Mum, and Dad all wore proud faces, and Neville blushed a bit under the attention. Their year mates all gaped at them in shock.

"Your schedules," McGonagall said, having finally recovered her voice as she handed them their course schedules. Neville was pleased to note that Charms wasn't until Friday. However, his mood soured when he looked at today's schedule. Defence in the early morning,followed by double history, before finishing with Potions before supper. And all with the Slytherins.

"Bugger," Sirius cursed, upon being handed his schedule. "Dumbledore must hate us. Our worst or most boring subjects _and_ a Slytherin-exclusive day, on a _Monday_!"

"I think it's very helpful," Hermione offered, and Neville looked up to see her cast a wicked grin at an unnerved Harry. "That way, we'll know early on if Harry thinks we need the DA."

"Oh, bloody hell," Harry muttered, dropping his head on the table. "We're going to have a fine good year with Defence for once. I mean, come on, they managed to pass here at least four times, didn't they?"

"Bribed zem into giving me an acceptable," Moliere said immediately.

"I blew up my homework and books so often they couldn't grade me," Vinnie said. "Not my fault someone bumped over my vial of nitroglycerine."

"First teacher, Milo Thatch, was a stupid loser that put you to sleep faster than Binns," the Latina girl interjected. "I used to steal lunch money from guys like him."

"Clarke didn't get to teach that much in second year. Called away halfway through when half his family suffered in a major accident," Remus sadly offered. "Dumbledore himself had to take over, and Clarke left in such a chaotic state he took his notes as well. Dumbledore had to start from scratch."

"The guy after that was busier seducing every girl in seventh year than actually teaching us," Sirius said. "Ended up getting a student pregnant in the end, one of the Parkinson sisters. The man still holds the record for most girls fucked in the school."

"And the last guy..." Peter visibly shuddered. "That guy's a creep. We don't talk about him."

"I'm still convinced he's a vampire on a diet," James said resolutely. "Or at least spends too much time with one."

"Good thing he had a nervous breakdown because of you guys, then," one of the girls next to Lily said. Marlene, Neville thought James had called her.

Neville saw Harry's shoulders drop further with each confirmation their education in defence hadn't been good even then. And who could blame him? Having to teach over thirty people, and actually speaking to such a group in front of him would unnerve any reasonable person. Godric, Neville started to get a panic attack just thinking about it.

And this time, since there was no ministry to discredit him and persuade people Harry was lying, the number would at least triple. Even more so, as Neville started to look around. The entire Gryffindor table was (sometimes not so) subtly eavesdropping on their conversation, and the majority of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were leaning in their direction. Professor Flitwick had even stopped his handing out of schedules and was waiting for the response as well.

"Face it, Harry," Joshua said. "We would all gain a lot more if you gave us some additional tutoring. And you've done this before."

"Yeah, to a group of thirty people, tops," Harry whined from where his head still lay on the table. "Not half of the bloody four hundred students of Hogwarts."

Neville grabbed his shoulder in reassurance. It looked like his friend could use it.

"Hey, as Joshua just said, you've done this before. We know most (if not all) of the same tricks and spells as you do, and I even _know_ I can do some you've never heard of. We'll be there to help you."

Harry looked up from his misery, and eyed those (now becoming close to two-thirds of the hall, and even had Slytherins among their number) listening in on the conversation. And then Neville knew they had Harry. The hopeful look in the eye of most, the desire to finally have a competent defence teacher, even if he was their age, or even younger than them... With Harry's hero complex, his saving people thing, there was no way he could resist. And judging by the near-smug smirks Hermione and Ron wore, they knew it, too.

Finally, Harry sighed. "All right; if Professor Clarke's spell work isn't up to the level we'll need, I'll arrange for a few meetings in the _room_ we found out about," He relented, before turning to Hermione. "But this time, you're _honest_ about the number of people per lesson. Because of you, I'm sceptical every time people use the term _a couple of_..."

"Sure," Hermione said, though Neville saw she was beaming. "I'll start up the list right after class."

"I bet you bloody will," Neville muttered. "I'll help with the Gryffindors. Joshua, can you ask the Ravenclaws?"

"Now wait a-"

Harry was saved from answering as the bell rang, and they all headed to class, to the Defence Neville suspected Harry was desperate would go right. Indeed, as soon as it rang, Harry was one of the first to rise. Ron was close behind him, likely to calm his friend's nerves and make him see reason as he always did. But Neville stayed behind long enough to notice the excitement that now hung in the air, as students chatted about how their tutoring from Harry would go. After all, the guy had to be good if he mastered the Patronus charm this early, right?

Neville arrived quite soon after Harry, and Hermione, Ginny, and Ron were already there as well. Neville waited outside, as soon the rest of his Gryffindor year arrived. The Slytherins arrived from the other way, all of them glaring at most of the group. Fortunately, most of them respectfully kept their displeasure aimed away from Harry, Neville, and the rest of their group, but the rest of them suffered the more for it.

And then Neville saw him, and his face visibly paled as he started shaking.

Him.

 _Snape_.

Here.

The one man he feared more than those that tortured his parents into insanity. The one that kept his confidence and self-esteem as low as it was. In the same year as him. With the same classes. On the same Monday.

He was doomed.

The door opened and Professor Clarke led them inside, and Neville's legs followed on autopilot, the rest of him still too caught up in the fact he'd be sharing his school years quite closely with _Snape_.Neville pointedly kept his eyes averted from the Slytherin side of the room.

He was pulled down into a seat, and was relieved to find that he shared the table with Harry. His heart slowed its beating a bit: while Harry's wit often got them into trouble with the man, it was amusing to witness and helped settle the nerves. Not to mention Harry always managed to talk Neville back up from whatever pit of depression Snape managed to throw him in after the umpteenth cauldron explosion.

"You alright, Nev?" Harry asked. "You seem as nervous as I am about the DA."

Neville, despite his fearful shaking, managed to nod in Snape's direction. Harry followed it and seemed to instantly understand what Neville was going through, for he put a reassuring hand on Neville's shoulder. He likely _did_ know what Neville was going through. Harry knew the Lestranges had tortured Neville's parents into insanity, at least since last Christmas when they ran into each other in the same ward. And Harry also knew that Snape was even worse for Neville, with the looming presence he always had in the classroom.

But Harry did not simply know: he understood. After all, despite all of Neville's failures, it was often Harry who got insulted and disparaged in class the most, rather than him. Snape hated Harry from the get-go, even before class had truly begun, and nothing Harry did was right in the man's opinion. Then there were, of course, the "remedial potions lessons" Harry told them about, where Snape took every chance he had to mentally torture Harry to the point You-Know-Who could get into his head whenever he wanted to.

If there was anyone who understood why Neville didn't want to go anywhere near Snape, it was Harry.

"Calm down, Neville," Harry reassured. "Here and now, he's a student, just like the rest of us. He can't hurt you, and if he does, you have the right, and the _power_ , to strike back. And I'll be with you every step of the way." Neville nodded, seeing in Harry's eyes he meant it. Yeah, Harry would have his back. He did so whenever they needed one another. As all Potters and Longbottoms did for one another.

"Thanks," Neville whispered.

"You're welcome," Harry smiled reassuringly. "Now pay attention: Professor Clarke's about to begin."

Neville nodded, as the man strode up to the front of the class, after the last person took their seat. It was a bit unevenly divided, with seventeen Gryffindors (the original eleven plus the six time travelers), and only nine Slytherins, of which Neville recognised only Snape and two people Neville recalled were named Avery and Mulciber by Harry. To Neville's shock Luna had drawn the short straw, and was sitting beside Snape in the front of the class, the former still wearing her dreamy expression while the latter looked like he rather wanted to be someplace else.

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen," Professor Clarke called in a calm yet slightly hurried voice, like he wanted to say as much as he could in as little time as possible. "My name is Professor Isaac Clarke. Former Head Auror of the Magical Congress of the United States of America, most skilful potions and defence combiner of magical society, and this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher."

"Good morning, professor," several people called.

"Now, according to notes left by my colleagues, you have extensive knowledge of dark creatures and the theoretical basis of the Dark Arts, while being a bit behind in your curses and countercurses."

Neville was reassured quite a bit of people snorted at the expressed understatement. "Therefor, the next two weeks will be spent on catching up on the previous two years, before we move on to the required fifth year curriculum. Yes, Miss Bay?"

Neville shot his head around to where Hermione sat instead of the Professor up front, as did most of the class. Usually, Umbridge excluded (naturally), Hermione waited until the professor was done speaking before raising her hand. And the man hadn't even reached the material for what they would do for their OWLs yet.

"Professor," Hermione started. "What of our OWLs? Some of us had quite a bit of different tutoring, and we're not exactly up to date on what we need to know."

"You're right, Miss Bay," Professor Clarke admitted. "Rest assured, by the end of the class I'll have the required list of material and spells for you. Though judging by the performance in the Great Hall I don't think you'll need it."

Hermione nodded, and lowered her hand.

"Now, as your fellow student just pointed out, this year you'll be focusing on your OWLs," the man started, and with a flick of his wand, a blackboard appeared as if a disillusionment charm had just been lifted. On it, Neville could read the meaning of the acronym

OWL written out.

"Aside from the spells required for your OWLs," the man started. "The plan we'll be starting after the revision of the two missing years: we'll be starting on another subject. One sorely missed and underestimated by many wizards and witches alike. Can anyone tell me what that is? Miss Evans, go ahead."

Lily stood up from her chair. "Potions, Professor."

"Correct," Professor Clarke said, and he smiled in approval as he moved to the blackboard. "Five points for Gryffindor. Yes, Potions. An art many overlook simply because it isn't a direct form of magic. It usually involves no wand waving, and often only takes effect when it is drunk. But it can be used for quite a few useful things, even some Muggles are smart enough to figure out. Can anyone name one?"

Neville looked down in concentration, thinking frantically about a possible answer. What if-

"Yes, Miss Sterling?" Clarke asked, and Neville saw a familiar-looking Slytherin blonde, who might end up being the mother of someone in his year, rise from her seat.

"They can be used to perform a quick first aid on an injury during a fight, Sir," she answered.

"Technically correct, but not the type of answer I was going for." Professor Clarke said. "Still, take five points for Slytherin. Anyone else?" Neville thought some more. He was sure an answer lay on the tip of his tongue, come on, he had blown up so many things in potions, he ought to remember at least-

 _Blown up. Of course._

He lifted his hand into the air, clear for Professor Clarke to see. "Yes, Mr Longbottom?" Professor Clarke asked, seeing Neville almost immediately.

"S-Sir, you can make an exploding potion and throw it at your opponent." Neville answered, hoping his idea was, if not correct, at least on the right track. To his relief it was, for Professor Clarke's smile got a bit bigger, and he heard Vinnie chuckle behind him at the answer.

"Correct, Mr Longbottom. Take ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, one can brew various potions and use them in combat against your opponent. An exploding potion speaks for itself. But one can also throw a paralysing agent, or throw an aerosol that spreads only to a certain radius to the thrower's liking. One can blind an opponent with the Draught of White Light, which shines as bright as the sun once the vial breaks. I can give numerous examples why throwing potions can be quite handy in a fight, but those will come up in further detail later this year. Anyone else have an idea how potions can be used?"

To Neville's surprise, Harry immediately raised his hand as well. Professor Clarke saw this immediately. "Yes, Mr Potter?"

"One can take a potion that enhances what someone can already do right before the battle, such as an Endurance Elixir or the Draught of Strength."

"Correct, Mr Potter," Professor Clarke spoke, sounding even more enthusiastic. "Ten points for Gryffindor. Yes, enhancing potions are very handy in a fight. I myself once defeated a gang of nearly thirty half-Giants in the States with only my wand and a dozen vials of Stoppered Speed and Draughts of Endurance. So the use of enhancing potions is highly recommended, even if regulated by the Ministry at sport events. And there are dozens of other uses for potions like this in combat: a widespread aerosol calming Draught to stop your comrades from panicking, a flask of Exploding Potion stuck to a wall to lay a trap for your enemy... The uses are endless, and highly underestimated."

Neville hung on the man's words by the end of it all. Unlike Lockhart, he seemed to know what he was doing at least. And he also appeared to have quite a bit of experience, rather than just reading the books on it. Neville could actually learn a lot in these classes.

Then Professor Clarke took on a sad and resigned expression, and Neville's mood dampened a bit. "Unfortunately, the practical use of most of this is either delegated to Potions class by Professors Dumbledore and Slughorn, or too dangerous to use in practical classes according to the ministry. So unless I can clear this with Professor Dumbledore, we'll be focusing on the theory for the majority of this year's class."

Neville's mood had dropped by then. Despite the man's enthusiasm to the contrary, they'd only be doing theory for the most part. It looked like the DA would come in handy after all. Neville's smile returned at that thought, remembering how useful the DA lessons had been for him.

Indeed, when he tapped Harry's shoulder in the middle of a lecture on the OWLs and they both turned around, Hermione could be seen wearing a very smug expression. Harry groaned softly and dropped his head to the table. "Bloody hell."

* * *

 ** _Dungeons, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland_**

Harry cursed his own luck for the umpteenth time. One year, _one_ _year_ where things could go right with Defence. But oh no: the teacher was a potions fanatic and wanted to combine the two subjects. Oh, how he cursed his Gryffindor luck. Now, he had to do the DA all over again.

He didn't object to the DA concept as such. On the contrary: he loved it. Various people from other houses came and attended simply because they believed him. Hell, even Seamus, someone who had outright accused him of lying, had chosen to attend. It had been nice, to be a member of a secret club like that.

No, Harry's problems lay in two directions. One: he didn't want to be the one teaching. He wasn't that good at it, even if he could do a Patronus. Heck, the only truly good teacher he'd had in the subject was now in the same year as he was. Quirrell had been a stuttering mess until he'd tried to kill Harry, and "Moody" had been extensively focused on the violent curses and the Unforgivables all year before trying to kidnap him for Voldemort as well. And Harry wasn't even about to start on the frauds like Lockhart and Umbridge. He had had one of the most terrible DADA educations in the school's history. So why did all the people have to look to him for guidance?

And in that lay Harry's second problem with it: it would now be a lot more than just thirty. And even thirty had been over his comfort level back then. But from the looks of it, he would now be giving lessons to the whole bloody school. That was way too much for him to handle on his own. True, he had had help from Hermione and Ron, and the others who had been in the DA with him, but six people simply would not be enough to teach nearly half a thousand students, or maybe even more, as he didn't know this year's student count.

His thoughts were cut short, as he arrived at the Potions professor's office during the early part of the lunch hour. He sighed, then knocked. While he didn't fancy facing a teacher that had once taught Voldemort himself, he knew he needed to. Thanks to Snape, his skills in the subject were abysmal. He knew the recipes by heart due to Snape drilling them into the class, but he knew next to nothing about how ingredients worked together and mixed, or why it was important to stir only a certain amount of times in a certain direction - something he had heard was vital to potions, and yet something Snape hadn't taught. He needed to make up for that in order to keep up this year in the subject.

The door opened, and the rotund professor stood in the door. He immediately smiled upon seeing Harry.

"Ah, Mr Potter!" he exclaimed, jovially. "What a surprise to see you. I was just about to head for lunch myself. Would you care to join me?"

"Actually, Sir," Harry started hesitantly. "I was wondering if I could talk to you for a few moments. It's about my potions education."

"Oh?" The professor asked curiously, but stepped aside so Harry could enter. Harry nodded gratefully, and walked in. To his surprise, the room was very brightly decorated. Well, brighter than Snape's office anyhow, as low a bar as that was. Unlike Snape, the professor had various pictures of his club around his office, as well as various objects of tribute like accolades, trophies, and _objets d'art_.

Harry sat down in one of the luxurious chairs in front of the desk, while the small and fat professor manoeuvred himself behind the desk. "And what can I do for you - Harry, wasn't it?" He asked as he grabbed his own hands. "From what I heard, you didn't enrol in Hogwarts specifically so you could get better education."

"I did, sir," Harry defended. "And I believe I am getting it in most subjects. But Potions... It's the one thing our group never got proper tutoring for."

"Oh?" the professor remarked in surprise. "Was he or she that bad at the subject, then?"

"On the contrary, Sir: he was brilliant," Harry said, with bile rising in his throat at having to defend Snape. Yet he couldn't deny his teacher was the best potions master in the country, despite his inability to teach it. "If he bothered with official schooling, I bet he could have received a Potions Mastery with ease. But..."

"But knowledge alone doesn't make for a great teacher in the subject," the professor finished knowingly, and Harry let out a sigh of relief that the professor understood. "Yes, that would be problematic. Very well, I'll keep it in mind for the first month of lessons, and will take measures to ensure you're up to date in proper lessons by then. Just so I know what I need to correct you and your friends on, how did your last tutor teach you?"

"He simply wrote the recipe on the blackboard, gave us the ingredients, and told us to brew it," Harry answered truthfully. "He drilled us so we would memorise the recipes, but that's it. No lectures or explanations on how ingredients react in certain ways with one another, or why one needs to stir a certain way to get the desired result."

The professor looked thoughtful for a moment, before leaning toward Harry. "While I'm willing to help you and your friends, Harry, I can't do that on my own in a month. Or even half a year without endangering the education of your fellow year mates in Gryffindor and Slytherin. I myself simply don't have the time with OWL and NEWT students taking the exams, and I will need the help of fellow students to help catch you up properly. Will that be alright with you all, Harry?"

Harry nodded. He wasn't that opposed to a bit of tutoring. And Neville and the others could use the help as well.

"Excellent!" The professor replied enthusiastically. "That kills two birds with one stone. Mister Snape and Miss Evans have come to my office once already, asking for potions projects for extra credit. And while it isn't exactly common, I think they won't object to tutoring people for that extra credit. For now, I recommend you read these after class." With a flick of his wand, he withdrew two books from his cabinet, and had them land on his elaborate desk in front of Harry. "You and your friends order them from Flourish and Blott's. While Miss Evans and Mister Snape will help you catch up on the practical side of the subject, these two volumes will help you catch up on the theoretical side."

Harry nodded in thanks. "I really appreciate this, Sir," Harry said with a genuine smile. While the professor did indeed help Voldemort, the man himself was in hindsight not so bad. He really had been taken in by Riddle's charms, rather than outright helping him for the sake of being evil. And the man wasn't alone in making that mistake.

"You're quite welcome, my boy," the professor answered with a smile. "Ah, but I never properly introduced myself now did I? Please forgive my lack of manners!" He held out his hand. "Horace Slughorn, Potions Professor and head of House Slytherin."

Harry shook the hand. "Harry Fleamont Potter, Sir. Younger brother of the chaotic James Charlus Potter, and son of Charlus Jonathan Potter and Dorea Ursula Black. A pleasure to meet you."

"A pleasure to meet you too, my boy," the man replied jovially. "Now you best be off for lunch, before your brother and his friends blow up the castle looking for you."

Harry nodded. With his brother and Sirius's tendencies to create chaos, and their access to Vinnie's bombs that was actually a real possibility. "I'll do that, sir," Harry answered. "See you in Potions."

Professor Slughorn smiled, and the two parted ways as they both headed for their respective lunch tables. It was a mostly quiet affair, as Harry arrived halfway through, and had to eat quickly in order to make it to the second class of History afterward with at least a partially filled stomach.

History, it turned out, wasn't a bit different from the future. Professor Binns still droned on about the Goblin Wars in a tone that could put everyone to sleep. And the class, as they also did in Harry's time, ignored him and instead studied history on their own, did other homework, or did things for their own amusement.

Harry was entertained by the variety of the things he saw, though. His mother was sitting with a potions book in one hand and a quill in another, writing down tips for her potions work for later, which Snape seemed to be doing as well. Joshua was sitting with a muggle biology book in front of him, intently studying the human body. Judging from an overheard comment Harry had heard earlier today, evidently studying for his chosen practice of a combat healer. Audrey, sitting next to him, was reading the manual of a motor bike, memorising it forwards and backwards as she made notations next to it. Moliere was happily looking at a patch of dirt he'd brought, shaping it so it made a neat pile, while Vinnie was... Harry had to rub in his eyes and look again, to ensure he wasn't mistaken.

Yep, he was building a bomb, taping sticks of dynamite to a muggle alarm clock and putting wires between them and other electronics taped on. And judging from the disinterested way the Marauders glanced at it, it wasn't that rare an occurrence. The Marauders, contrary to what Harry expected, were actually doing something useful for once. James, Sirius, and Peter didn't sit with each other, but with Neville, Hermione, and Ginny, and from the comments he overheard and the notes he saw being passed, kept giving tips for the Animagus forms. Harry shrugged, and opened the book he had on the subject himself that was delivered this morning. Ron had fallen asleep halfway through, so he could take the moment to study instead of playing hangman for the umpteenth time with Ron.

He was surprisingly close to managing the transformation, though he kept this to himself for now. Once he was sure he could actually do it he would tell Hermione and Ron, but he wanted it to be a pleasant surprise for Remus when the next full moon came. He even already knew his animal (surprisingly, not the same one as his Patronus) and had managed the various parts in separate transformations. He'd yet to manage a full transformation with all of his parts changing at the same time, but he wanted his father or Sirius present for that, so they could reverse it if something went wrong.

History of Magic class finally ended, and Harry packed his books, kicking Ron to wake him up, and headed for Potions. On the way there,he gave a brief summary of his conversation with Professor Slughorn to the five others of his time, so they knew what they were getting into.

"This could be interesting," Hermione said. "Remus said your mother was very good at Potions, and Snape was certainly not that bad at the subject, despite what happened with Harry and Neville there."

"I hope I don't end up with Snape," Ron muttered. "I have enough bad memories with the man as it is, I don't need new ones."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. Before seeing on the train he was a Potter, Snape was actually civil to him. Certainly someone he didn't mind befriending. "He might be different now that he's younger and not so embittered."

"Harry, this is _Severus Snape_ we're talking about," Neville whispered. "He's the cruelest man I know, and you heard James talk about him."

Harry wanted to say his father was kind of biased, considering that both of them vied for his mother's attention. But he was prevented from doing so when they arrived at the potions classroom and the door was already open. As the students entered, the class once again split in two, with the outnumbered Slytherins mostly on the right and in front, and the Gryffindors taking up the entire back and left of the classroom. Harry took the precaution of seating him and Neville close by his mother, so she could help them if something went wrong.

"Greetings, ladies and gentlemen," Professor Slughorn greeted. "For those of you that are new to this class, my name is Horace Slughorn, Potions Master and professor of Hogwarts and head of House Slytherin. This year will be your OWL year: a very important year, mind you. Quite a number of jobs require at least an OWL in Potions for you to be hired, many even a NEWT, and I have quite high standards of you after teaching most of you for years. I will expect at least an Exceeds Expectations in your OWLs, given the work I've seen from you so far. Only with an E will you be accepted into NEWT Potions. Understand?"

Most of the class nodded, and Slughorn smiled as he continued. "Now, today we will be starting with the Calming Draught. The name speaks for the effects: it helps one calm down and settles one's nerves. But be very careful here: be even a little bit heavy-handed with the ingredients, and the drinker of the potion could be put in an irreversible sleep. The Potion is in your textbooks on page three hundred ninety five, and I've set out the selection of ingredients everyone will be needing in advance." He flicked his wand and the doors to the ingredient cabinets flew open. Indeed, a handful of jars with ingredients had been set a bit more to the front than the others.

"You have until the end of class to brew it. I will walk around and offer advice if you are stuck. You may begin."

Harry nodded, and immediately tapped Neville's shoulder. "Would you get the ingredients and cut them? I'll handle the brewing and add the ingredients for both of us if you can read the instructions."

Neville nodded in relief as he immediately got up and retrieved the ingredients for the both of them. Harry had noticed once in third year that Neville could handle the ingredient cutting and adding quite well in Potions, but that it was often during the brewing that things went wrong for him. While Neville needed to improve with that, until they actually got help from Snape and Lily, Harry would handle it for him. No need to give him a bad reputation about exploding cauldrons already and lower his self-confidence even more.

As Neville returned, they immediately got to work. Neville carefully prepared and handed the ingredients as he read from the recipe in the book, while Harry added them when and where needed and did the stirring for both of them. To his surprise it actually went very well. Unlike in his previous classes, the potion actually got close to the right colour when he followed the instructions. Admittedly, Snape had been hovering over them most of the time during those previous classes, and either obscured a particular step and only informed his Slytherins, or berated him and Neville so much they forgot one in their nervous state. But now, with the calm and much friendlier Professor Slughorn even helping them sometimes it went extremely well.

"Try adding a counter-clockwise stir to that after every seven clockwise stirs," Lily said from behind him, and he and Neville looked back to her. "It stops the potion from settling too much."

"Thanks," Harry said, and did as she instructed. To his surprise, it worked: the potion got the exact colour it needed to be at this stage after only three times of following his mother's advice. Harry smiled, as they were quite close to finishing the potion. He took a chance and glanced around the classroom to see how everyone else did.

Hermione and Ron were sitting together, holding a hushed debate while they worked. Hermione's potion looked much closer to the colour it needed to be than Ron's, but even hers wasn't as close to the required colour as his and Lily's - as well as Snape's, Harry noticed. The Slytherin was sitting quietly and working next to the girl that spoke up at defence. Sterling, he remembered her surname was. Ginny and Luna were working in absolute concentration, and their work was also remarkably close to being done, though slightly off-colour. James and Sirius, to no surprise at all, had potions the wrong colour of the spectrum entirely, and Audrey and Joshua weren't much better, despite the latter two working more seriously. Marlene and Mary were doing quite well, all things considered, but then again they sat next to his mother, a Potions prodigy. Surprisingly, Vinnie and Moliere's potions were quite good too, as were Remus's and Peter's.

He finally had the potion at the exact colour, and now had to let it simmer for a few minutes before he could stopper it and hand it in.

"That looks quite good," Neville said. "I thought for sure we'd do something wrong, and-

 ** _BOOM!_**

Harry and Neville both looked behind themselves. James and Sirius were covered in ash, and the cauldron had flames coming out of it as well. Vinnie whistled appreciatively at it from beside them, and a snickering Peter took a picture of it before Slughorn could vanish the mess. A couple of Slytherins snickered, and Snape wore an expression that was a mix of exasperation and amusement at their failure, but that was the extent of the reactions from the opposite house.

Slughorn sighed. "I'm afraid I can't properly grade that, boys. A Calming Draught can't do much good if it sets you on fire."

Harry simply sighed sadly, as he properly stoppered it after a few minutes. Looking at how his father was at potions, he could see why Snape compared him more to his father than his mother in those days. In any event, he could see a massive improvement in his potions skills between then and now, if he were to judge it by this potion. Last time he'd overlooked a step and it was entirely the wrong colour. Now, it was exactly as the book described it. He turned his and Neville's potions in at Slughorn's desk, who briefly inspected them.

"Excellent work, boys," Slughorn smiled after a few moments. "Worthy of an Outstanding, if I am seeing this properly. I can see you are both quite talented at the subject. Perhaps you don't need as much tutoring as you believed."

Harry nodded in thanks, and he returned to his seat. Upon informing Neville on how it went, he smiled quite a bit, even if he blushed as well at the praise and ducked away. After the class had ended, Slughorn called for Harry and the other five new ones to hang back, as well as Severus and Lily.

"Since I know you value your free time, I will keep this short," Slughorn said. "Severus, Lily: you both expressed your desire earlier for a potions project for extra credit. And while I know you both suggested you could improve the currently existing potions and do that as a project, I have a better idea." He gestured to Harry and his group. "The six new transfers have stated to me that while their spell work and theory is quite good, their potions education is... _subpar_ , to give an understatement. While I have their theoretical education covered, I thought it a splendid idea if the two of you brought their practical studies up to OWL standards."

Lily smiled, and looked excited upon hearing that they could get to work together more often, while Snape looked like he'd swallowed a bitter lemon upon hearing that. And to be honest Harry couldn't blame him. He was terrible to children in his own time, and exhibited little patience for teaching novices the subtle arts of potions making (not that Harry knew them). But he must either be more tolerant of the idea than Harry thought, or wanted the extra credit very badly, because he still nodded. "An excellent idea, professor."

Slughorn smiled sympathetically. "I know you don't have much tolerance for beginners, Mr Snape. So I'll offer you a deal: if you can get them up-to-date by Christmas, not only will I give you and Miss Evans the extra credit, but I'll put forth a recommendation for each of you at the International Potion Masters Guild."

Harry saw Lily and Snape's eyes widen significantly at that. Clearly, such a recommendation meant much for both of them. Snape's sour face instantly vanished, to be replaced by a look of determination.

"In that case, I will see them through even if I have to drag them into the potions labs myself."

"That's the spirit," Slughorn said jovially. "I will leave it to the eight of you to work out the details on how you'll arrange the tutoring. If you require the use of them, the potions labs will be opened for you in the periods from six o'clock until curfew on Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Sunday. Be sure to write down what ingredients and how much of them you use during the sessions, so I know what to restock afterward. Unless any of you have any questions, I believe that will be all."

Harry nodded, and led them all out of the classroom. Snape had barely even closed the door to the classroom when he turned on them all and spoke immediately. "Alright, since this is on incredibly short notice, there is no use in having any tutoring tonight. Can you give us a short version of what your education looked like, so Lily and I can roughly estimate what we need to teach you?"

"Our potions classes were simplistic," Hermione immediately started explaining for them, immediately launching into an explanation of the lessons as Harry immediately zoned out. He'd given Slughorn a similar summary during lunch. At the end, upon hearing how Slughorn had recommended books they'd read to catch up on the theory part of Potions, Snape nodded.

"Those books are a good start for catching up on the first three years," He admitted. "Once we get to the material of fourth year, come seek us out, and Lily and I will help you with our own notes on potions. Most of them have quite a few tips and tricks that help with the brewing or make the potion even better."

"Really?" Harry asked, surprised at the fact Snape seemed so ready to help out a Potter (of all people). Apparently, Snape had read his mind again, for he briefly got his sneer back.

"As much as I'm loath to teach you, _Potter_ , I really need that recommendation into the IPMG," Snape drawled, which softened upon receiving a stern glare from Lily. "And if that means I have to help you pass your OWL in Potions, so be it."

Harry nodded. So it was more of a Slytherin move after all. Snape really needed his help to become a recognised potions master. Harry knew James could, and likely _would_ , fail his Potions OWL just to spite Snape. Hell, with how Snape had treated him for most of his original schooling at Hogwarts, he was tempted to do just that himself, though he hated to admit it - even to himself.

But he wasn't his father. Snape had only behaved badly to him once, and that was when he confused him for James. He didn't harbour any actual ill will to Harry aside from being the brother of his arch nemesis. Perhaps, if Harry worked together with Snape on this, he could actually prevent Snape from becoming a git to every Potter he encountered. It was all problem prevention, really. The reminder of Charlus to give everyone, even those he originally hated, a chance to prove themselves to Harry sealed the deal.

"All right," Harry said. "I suggest we work on Fridays and Sundays, then. It'll be the weekend or close to it, so fewer people will be in the labs to disturb us. I might have Quidditch tryouts and practice on occasion, but I don't have a problem catching those up on one of the other days."

Ron and Hermione looked at Harry in surprise at his tolerance, but Snape nodded. "Very well. I'll prepare a suitable schedule so we can work properly on this later. I suggest that while we all work together in the same room, we split this between Lily and me so neither of us is overwhelmed in one go."

"That's a good idea," Lily admitted. "Two groups of four, me in one and Severus in another, so there is at least one expert in each group." There was a bit more taking afterwards, but mostly it was settling details like exact times and homework, something he wisely left to Hermione to settle, since she was more detailed and focused when it came to that. In the end, they decided that Ron, Luna, and Hermione would mostly work with Lily (much to his mother's disappointment, Harry noted), while he, Ginny, and Neville would be taught by Snape.

That was a development that surprised Harry quite a bit, especially considering the fact Snape was the more liable of the two at the moment to curse one of the Potters. But Snape reasoned that since he was better than Lily, and Harry, Neville, and Ginny were the worst three originally at Potions, it would be better if they were taught by Snape. And Snape also promised for the sake of that recommendation that he wouldn't curse any of them, at least until they were all up to his standards.

"I think we covered every possible angle on this," Hermione said after a few moments. "Meet you all on Friday, then?"

"That would be the best choice," Snape agreed. "Until then, please keep up with the theory."

"We will," Harry promised. "See you then."

Snape nodded and walked away from them, deeper into the dungeons- likely to his own common room. Harry and the others made their way back up, Lily and Luna walking ahead as they spoke of another of Luna's magical creatures, a Magicking Morph if Harry heard the name right.

"What the hell, mate," Ron whispered as they walked back to their common room. "How are you so calm at being taught by bloody _Snape_?! You know how he treats your family."

Harry nodded. "I know. And I never said it would be an easy few months. But his treatment of Potters isn't entirely unfounded, if you knew what my father has done to him. And besides, if I treat him well now, he might actually be less of an arse later, when we grow up a second time."

"That's actually a very mature attitude," Hermione complimented, before patting him on the head. "I didn't know you had it in you."

"Oh, sod off," Harry laughed, swatting her hand away. "But just think, Hermione: if I can be this mature already, imagine all the things you can do with Ron."

Harry laughed at the look of pure terror that now covered Ron's face.

* * *

 ** _Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England. September 3rd_**

Antonin Dolohov scowled, as he walked through the lobby of the Manor. The scar across his face from his fight with Arcturus Black still hadn't healed. The cut really itched in the damp of the misty evening. It didn't help that a group of Dementors guarded the Manor either. True, they would not attack any of them unless the Dark Lord commanded it, but every discomfort, every bad thing, was made to feel worse because of them.

Hence, his irritation at the lackey that had met him at the edge of the property was also made to feel ten times worse, as was that man's anxiety.

"But, Sir," he prattled on about something involving what had been happening in the Manor. How the Dark Lord continued to tolerate someone like him this close to the Manor, Antonin would never know. "The circumstances are unusual. The practitioners behave oddly most of the day, the servants are called for the most peculiar of services daily... And last week, one of the Thestrals vanished."

Antonin finally had had enough, as they finally entered the staircase that led both to the upper levels of the Manor, where some of the servants and most of the Death Eaters too well known to go out in public (like Antonin himself, as well as his friends Evan Rosier and Gregory Flint, and most of the other non-vampires not in the ranks that didn't have their own residence) resided, and to the catacombs below, where the Dark Lord had set up his lair. He turned on the weakling of a servant, his wand in hand.

"Well, you just ensure the servants keep their mouths shut." he said calmly. "Or I promise you-"

His threat was interrupted by a loud scream from below. Likely Randolph torturing another muggle into insanity, or the Dark Lord punishing another for the Pyrrhic victory at the Ministry. True, they had accomplished their goal and practically eliminated the ministry's opposition short-term, but it had cost them far too many people, half of the non-halfbreeds to be precise, and the survivors had suffered from the Cruciatus curse on a daily basis. In any event, the scream helped empower his threat, for the servant immediately whitened in fear.

"they will vanish as well," he finally said, before dropping his coat into the servant's hands so they could be cleaned and dried. True, a spell could have done that in seconds. But the man's wand had been confiscated upon his capture and given to one of the Werewolves, and it was quite fun to see such former upstanding members of society so humiliated - lowered to the rank of a mere house elf where they formerly held prominent positions in important businesses and social circles.

Too bad they were so openly supportive of Muggles and Muggleborns being included in Magical society. They could've been useful.

Antonin walked down the stairs, heading deeper into the 'Lair of the Serpent', as most of the Death Eaters called the spacious catacombs beneath the Manor. From here, all the work was done. The potions were prepared in the labs below the Eastern Wing. The injured were healed up in the Western Tombs, and if they were too heavily wounded to be helped, buried in the coffins and put away immediately. People could easily depart for a mission from the Southern parts, from which one could fly out through a tunnel with their brooms, or they could Portkey out from and return to that room, as that was the only area in a ten-mile radius where Portkeys worked, or they could walk out through the Manor proper, as Antonin was doing right now.

And of course there were the Centre and Northern parts of the Catacombs which held the training area for new recruits and the Dark Lord's personal chambers respectively - the latter of which Antonin was headed for right now.

He stalked into the training room and immediately walked along the side. He didn't wish to be hit by a stray curse from a newbie, as the Carrow Siblings often suffered. Though he had to admit, the skills on display were quite impressive. Some of them were so effective it wasn't rare they accidentally killed their partner in practice. Which was something with which Antonin was familiar: he himself had accidentally killed one a day before the attack on the ministry, and there was a monthly betting pool how many Fenrir Greyback would kill thusly before the month was up. Antonin was fortunate to win last June, which had earned him 259 Galleons and 12 Sickles.

Not that it was such a large problem. They could all be turned into Inferi or food for the Werewolves during the full moon, and with Malfoy, Nott, Selwyn, Lestrange, and other prominent families continuously recruiting across the continent they would have many more with them, aside from the hundreds of Purebloods, Werwolves, Vampires, Giants, Dementors, and Outcast Goblins already in their ranks.

At the moment, the training area was heavily occupied. Gibbon and a recruit - Jugson, Antonin believed he was called, were in a duel off to the side, as were the Carrow siblings against Thorfinn Rowle and Antioch Travers. Gabriel Pucey, Benedict Warrington, Pyrites, and a new foreigner recruit named Dragomir Despard were watching Igor Karkaroff duel Fenrir Greyback, and the morons Rudolphus and Rabastan were on the ground, a triumphant Bellatrix Black standing over them, keeping them under the Cruciatus for their failure as she cackled a laugh.

Antonin walked around them and headed for the northern section. He briefly ducked, missing a pair of poisoned blades thrown at Greyback by inches, and they hit and stuck into the wall instead. He tossed a Cruciatus in Karkaroff's direction in retaliation, though he didn't care if he hit or not. It kept them on their toes, and they couldn't retaliate with him so close to the Dark Lord's quarters. And judging by the lack of screaming he'd missed anyway.

He entered the rooms, and was once more briefly awed by the wealth on display here. He'd seen it many times before, but to see so much opulence had a tendency to take one's breath away.

The people that were truly important to the Dark Lord came here: the wealthy, the influential, the powerful, the talented... If you had true potential and individual use to him, the Dark Lord summoned you here, in the massive hollowed out rooms below. People like Evan Rosier's father Cadmus, Claudius Nott, Abraxus Malfoy, Corban Yaxley and his father Alexander, Reginald Lestrange and the blood adopted bastard son Randolph. Bellatrix and Fenrir had been granted audiences here on occasion, too, as had Lucius Malfoy and Theodore Nott.

Antonin bowed, as he entered the Throne Room. Immediately he felt his spirit drop, as the four Dementors that guarded the Dark Lord swooped closer to him to inspect him. They removed themselves swiftly, however, as the Dark Lord commanded them away.

"You may rise, Antonin," the Dark Lord spoke, and Antonin obeyed.

Upon the Dark Lord beckoning him forth, Antonin walked over so he stood almost right in front of the throne.

"Tell me, Antonin..." the Dark Lord started. "What is the current mood amongst the people in the magical world?"

"They are afraid, my Lord," Antonin answered. "Most of the people had relatives or loved ones that had been killed in the attack on the ministry. Only a few dare resist us."

"Do you have names?" The Dark Lord asked, as the locket around his neck glinted in the faint light that fell on his body. The shadow obscured most of his face, giving him a frightening appearance.

"Baron Arcturus Black, and Lords Hyperion Greengrass and Hector Longbottom openly resist us, as I fought two of them in the attack and spotted the third. I suspect the Potter, Bones, and Shackelbolt families also would fight you, as would Albus Dumbledore and Alastor Moody. There are more, but I do not yet know their names. I suggest you ask the elder Lestrange about the Great Alliance, as its members, Baron Black and Longbottom among them, tend to support one another in a time of need, and that list includes quite a few prominent families."

The Dark Lord visibly mulled this over, as Antonin finally waited for a response. Finally, he rose. "Can you tell me about the rumours of a second Potter and Longbottom being enrolled into Hogwarts, Antonin?"

Antonin frowned. He didn't keep a particular eye out to the happenings inside Hogwarts. The children of Death Eaters were usually sufficient for that. But word of new additions to the Potter and Longbottom families hadn't reached him yet. "If they exist, I haven't heard of them yet, my Lord," he answered honestly. "May I inquire why you wish to know this, considering your previous lack of interest in their families after Lestrange advised _against_ recruiting them?

"You may, Antonin," the Dark Lord answered, starting to pace around Antonin. "For the answer to that is very simple, though it requires some explanation. Our goal is to control Magical Britain, and inevitably the entire Wizarding world. In order to do that, what would you focus on first?"

"I would do as you would, my Lord," Antonin answered after a moment of consideration. "While there are other methods, I believe it would be best, and fastest, to gain control of the population of Magical Britain, either directly through their admiration, or indirectly through their fear of me."

"Exactly!" The Dark Lord said enthusiastically. "Control the population. And it so happens that aside from a handful of exceptions, magical people lack sense, and are thus very fickle." The Dark Lord paused, looking at his own wand. Antonin immediately tensed: it has always been that when the Dark Lord draws his wand, he usually curses someone: the Killing Curse if he was in a merciful mood; Cruciatus or other equally painful curses if he wasn't. But to his surprise, the Dark Lord merely looked at it as he continued speaking.

"And fickle people usually believe what you tell them. Especially wizards and witches, who, as noted, often lack common sense. They never check the facts; they never ask good questions; they never think things they hear through. Tell them our way of life is menaced by the eradication of our traditions, and they will not wonder why. Tell them you could save them, and they will never ask: from what, from whom?"

"And what if someone does ask?" Antonin asked, unsure where the Dark Lord was going with this.

"Then you just say Tyranny, Oppression, Muggleborns... Give them vague bogeymen and phantom threats that require no analysis," the Dark Lord answered. "And you never specify. Then they look the other way when reality is right in front of them." The Dark Lord let out a menacing laugh. "It's a conjuring trick, the key of which is distraction, getting them to watch your hands with an Exploding Snap deck while you cast Imperio at them with your other."

The Dark Lord finally stopped fidgeting with his wand, and lowered his hood so Antonin could see him fully. It wasn't a pretty sight, even if he hadn't changed that much yet because of the various rituals he frequently underwent. He still had his young, charismatic face which he seduced the population with, as well as his carefully styled hair, but there were notable differences. The slowly flattening nose, paling skin, and reddening eyes were clear give-aways, though the pulsing veins on his forehead were a clue as well. But he still seemed mostly like the young man that had approached him in the duelling circuit in Belarus so long ago.

"That is what we are doing, Antonin. The Magical world needs to be eradicated of vermin like mudbloods, blood traitors, and half-breeds. But only we are willing to go far enough to do so. So while we strike from the shadows like terrorists, and sow fear among the population about where we will attack and cull the people next, we shall create the ultimate weapon for achieving our goals. The ultimate weapon to give me, to give _us_ , absolute rule of the Magical World."

The Dark Lord, for the first time, sighed in sadness. "But of course, there are those that do not fall for the shared illusion. The single-minded people do not step into that trap, and keep watching too closely. Single-minded people are dangerous, Antonin. And they either work for me-"

The Dark Lord whirled around, and cast a Crucio at the section on the wall behind him, which had been covered in shadow since his arrival. Antonin ignored the fact that in the brief flash of light from the curse he recognised Randolph Lestrange, his fellow commander of the attack force that devastated the Ministry, chained up and flayed to the bone on his legs but still alive, hanging from the wall for the Dark Lord to toy with.

"or they do not work at all," the Dark Lord finished.

"And Potter and Longbottom are such single-minded individuals," Antonin said, realising at last where the Dark Lord was going with this speech.

Lord Voldemort smiled. "Indeed, Antonin. Lord and Baron Potter. Baron Black. Lord and Lady Bones. Lord Longbottom. Lord Greengrass. All of them are single-minded individuals. But one thing they value above all else is family. With Bellatrix Black as an inducted member, and fifth year Cyrus Greengrass as a willing initiate, the Black and Greengrass families will be covered. But for the others, it is just as essential to control their children, either by the Imperius, or by keeping them hostage."

Antonin nodded. "And since Hogwarts is too heavily secured for us to gain access to them there, you want me to abduct them, as well as one of the Bones children, either during a Hogsmeade weekend or during one of the holidays."

"My my, and Lucius and Abraxus consider you nothing but a dull-witted brute," the Dark Lord laughed. "Well, everyone has to be wrong at least once. Yes, that will be your mission. I want them in this manor by the end of May 1976 at the latest, but the sooner, the better. Take whatever men, Portkeys, spare wands, and other resources you require, and complete your mission."

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin bowed, and turned to exit the room.

"Oh, and Antonin." the Dark Lord called, making the duelling champion freeze in his step. Fearing retribution if he did, he didn't turn around. "We lost a significant number of forces at the Ministry, despite the mission's success. A punishment for such a failure is usually torture until death. You were lucky I consider this the failing of Reginald's blood-adopted _mudblood_ of a son, rather than yours."

Antonin nodded. "I will not fail you, my Lord," he swore. "I will either get you a Potter, Longbottom, and Bones, or die trying."

"Good," the Dark Lord said. "Go now. My sources in Hogwarts will get you the information on the new children within the week. Prepare."

Antonin nodded, and finally left the Throne Room and the Dark Lord, ignoring the screams of his one-time friend being tortured by the Dark Lord physically, and the Dementors mentally and emotionally as he was forced to relive his worst memories over and over without anything positive to counter it with before it was sucked away by the Dementors.

 _In the Dark Lord's presence after a significant failure, even a_ _Dementor's Kiss will seem like a mercy killing._

 _I will not fail my_ _mission._

 _I cannot._

* * *

 ** _Room of Requirement, Seventh Floor, Hogwarts Castle, Scotland_**

 ** _September 3rd_**

The morning of the first meeting, Harry sighed nervously, pacing the room for the umpteenth time as he awaited the arrival of the newly dubbed Defence Association. Hermione had prepared the necessary books, while Ron and Neville were preparing the mats. True, the room had provided them, but they hadn't been specific enough in where they were supposed to end up, and needed to be rearranged. Ginny and Luna were on lookout, so people would know where to enter.

In the end, the group that Harry would directly teach had been kept relatively small. These students, in turn, could tutor the rest of their houses in the techniques Harry taught, working like a snowball and spreading from student to student, until by the end of a week in which a session took place, everyone would be up to date on what was taught in that session. He and the others couldn't teach nearly four hundred students on their own, so aside from their close friends they would teach a number of 'Representatives' of each house, including the Quidditch Captains, Head Boy and Girl (Amos Diggory and Amelia Bones, Harry had been surprised to recognise), as well as the six prefects of each house. Finally, there were a number of people the Marauders trusted, like Dorcas Meadowes of Ravenclaw, or who needed to be repaid a favour, as in Harry's case Severus Snape. Harry felt that, since Snape was effectively tutoring him in Potions, the least he could do was return the favour and teach Snape a bit more of defence. And he hadn't given in to the Marauders' protests, since they had put Harry in charge of who could come and who couldn't, something they were learning to regret.

The number of students in total, aside from the original six members of the DA, included the entirety of fifth year Gryffindor, Frank and Alice, and Hestia Jones of Seventh year, all the Prefects and Head Boy and Girl, Snape, Cyrus Greengrass, Regulus Black, and Roxanne Sterling of Slytherin, Dorcas Meadowes, Benjy Fenwick, and (to Luna's great delight when she learned) Xenophilius Lovegood and Pandora Celeste McGregor of Ravenclaw, the future Runes and Arithmancy teachers Bathsheda Babbling and Septima Vector, as well as Mafalda Hopkirk and Caradoc Dearborn of Hufflepuff. They were rounded out by the Quidditch captains Michelle Davies, Edgar Bones, and Graham Mulciber.

When he'd gotten the list of people who wanted to sign up at the end of the day, Harry decided who could join the DA, while Hermione, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Luna would follow his lead mostly. Aside from the obvious choices like the Gryffindor students, Prefects, Quidditch captains and Head Students, he'd chosen mainly from future Order of the Phoenix members, relatives (in Luna's case), people he knew (like the future teachers), because he heard from Professors they were talented and sure to do well and follow instruction (in the case of Mafalda Hopkirk, Roxanne Sterling, and Cyrus Greengrass), or because he felt he should give them at least one chance (every Slytherin student present). That was an admittedly biased selection process, but Harry felt these people deserved to know.

They finished the preparations for the DA in the usual way: Hermione charmed galleons in a similar way as when they first did it; they would again write their names on a charmed bit of parchment to protect them from teacher interference; and since Hermione and Luna could perform the Charm, a Fidelius on not only the Room of Requirement itself, but also the lessons in general, with Harry being the secret keeper of both of them. That way, no one could rat them out, especially since Harry himself always had a tight hand on the only slip of Parchment that contained both secrets as he showed it to the accepted members.

Finally the door opened, and the first students arrived. To his surprise, they weren't the Marauders or any of his Dorm Mates. Instead, they were Lily talking with Marlene, Mary, Pandora McGregor, and Roxanne Sterling. And all of them were talking in quite a friendly manner.

Harry should have realised that with her friendly disposition, his mother's circle of friends wouldn't be restricted to Gryffindor alone.

They were closely followed by Cyrus Greengrass, Graham Mulciber, Severus Snape, and Regulus Black, who were deeply engrossed in their own conversation as they entered.

After that, everyone else slowly trickled in in pairs, or in the case of the Marauders as a foursome literally stuck together by the shoulder as the result of a failed prank. The last arriving person, Xenophilius, closed the door behind him as Luna and Ginny walked in with him.

"That is everyone?" Harry asked. When Hermione nodded, he stepped a bit more to the forefront. "Alright, everyone. Thank you for coming. I won't bore you with a long speech: you're all hear to learn proper Defence against the Dark Arts instead of whatever combination of Potions and Defence Professor Clarke insists upon. Unless any of you have any questions - yes, Miss Sterling?" Harry asked.

"What does DA stand for, exactly? It was mentioned on the paper you made me read, but I have no idea what it means."

"Defence Association," Ron answered. "That was the code name we had for it back when we were tutored on our journey from... What was it, Hermione? I always mix up the countries of the last three years."

"From southern Portugal to eastern Germany." Hermione rolled her eyes. Harry smirked; they did the cover of their tutelage on the continent while travelling act very well.

"Yeah, that," Ron said sheepishly. "Anyway, we thought that since the six of us are the only ones of the group still together, we'd name it like that. Anything else?"

"What type of curses will we be learning?" Amelia Bones asked. "While our green-tied classmates might not object, I do not fancy myself being the target of a dark curse during your sessions."

"For now, we only focus on the Hogwarts curriculum," Harry answered. "We might get to cast spells of a darker nature, but that's only for when we learn spell identification, and _never_ during our practice rounds together. Agreed?" Everyone nodded, though some did so reluctantly. "Any other questions?"

"What spells will we be starting with?" Benjy asked excitedly.

"Well, since your last several teachers weren't up to par, I thought we should stick to revision for the next few weeks. The Expelliarmus and Protego will be a good starting point."

There were multiple groans all around, as well as a number of protests. Audrey was one of the loudest protestors. "Really, Potter? Most of the teachers were rubbish, but Clarke taught us at least that much."

"Expelliarmus has saved my life multiple times, Ramirez," he returned, before letting a smile slip through and let his wand drop into his hand. Hermione and the others, as they had discussed they would do should this happen, stepped back to give Harry a bit more space. "But if you feel so confident, feel free to disarm me."

Everyone briefly looked at Harry in surprise, before a determined Audrey stepped forward. She grabbed her own wand from her back pocket, and didn't wait for the crowd to disperse as she launchedthe curse at Harry.

As he expected, it wasn't as good as Audrey had proclaimed: it was underpowered, missed by half a meter, she made an exaggerated movement and said the incantation out loud, the latter two of which would have tipped him off even if he didn't know what she was doing. Frustrated, she cast it again, and again. Each time she missed him, either to his side or going over his head. By the sixth time he decided to give the girl a break, and cast one of his own, silently and with a quick, controlled movement, as Charlus had taught him. He now thanked the man for insisting that they all learn to cast silently, as the girl was quite surprised when the spell hit her. And Harry got a shocking testament of his own power: not only was her wand knocked out of her hand and sent flying into Harry's, but she was send falling backwards to land at Joshua's feet.

"In a duel," he started to lecture them. "It doesn't solely depend on how many spells you know, what powerful spells you know, or how powerful you really are, though admittedly each of the three is an excellent advantage to have. But most often it comes down to who can fire the first spell at their opponent. And since most wizards and witches consider martial arts to be too 'muggle' and beneath them, and aren't capable of holding their own wandlessly, most arepretty much harmless when they're disarmed. And even if they aren't, a good Stupefy or Incarcerous will usually put them out of the fight for a while." He handed Audrey her wand back, which she took while blushing furiously, properly chastised about her arrogance.

"Which is another thing we'll be doing. To ensure we won't be the same as most wizards, we'll all be learning martial arts together, so we're not harmless just because a Death Eater was clever enough to snap our wands."

"Will we be learning the Patronus?" Septima Vector asked.

"Yes, but there isn't much instruction to it," Harry said. "The incantation, in case you didn't hear it yesterday, is Expecto Patronum, and there is no particular wand motion. There are three things that make it difficult, however. One: you have to be quite powerful to even manage a partial Patronus, and even more so to manage a corporeal one. Two: you need a happy memory. One that makes you the happiest, most satisfied person in the world. And it isn't something as simple as getting your first broomstick or your Hogwarts letter. It can be the person you love the most." he gave a pointed look at Neville and Luna's parents, as well as Cyrus and Roxanne. "It can be your close friendship." He looked at the Marauders, as well as Ron and Hermione. "Or it can be a special event in your life. Whatever makes you the happiest in the world, you focus on that memory, and the emotion it evokes in you. Specifically, that emotion. That is what needs to fuel the memory."

"And what's the third difficulty?" Vinnie asked.

"Simply the fact that you often only need to cast a Patronus near Dementors. And the fact Dementors feed themselves on the same kind of emotions and memories makes it twice as hard to cast the spell as if you were cast it in a friendly environment," Harry admitted. "I can speak from experience that it is a lot harder than it looks."

"Shame we can't bring a Dementor here and practice," Audrey said sarcastically, still a bit sour at being beaten so soundly.

"Actually, we might," Harry said. "My Boggart's a Dementor, so if one of you can capture one during the Christmas break we might beable to practice."

Everyone seemed excited at the prospect, but Harry brought their attention back to him. "But for now, we'll practice the Expelliarmus and Protego. One of you will cast it at the other, the other will try to either dodge or shield themselves. We take turns, and at the end of the hour rotate partners. If you have all got it pat at the end of the week, we will start practicing the Patronus at the end of each session from then on. So help each other out and start practicing, people."

Everyone's excitement immediately grew, as they all originally came to Harry because they wanted to learn defence and the Patronus. But they all partnered up fairly quickly. Harry had to interfere a number of times, as James and Sirius tried to partner with Snape or practice close to him, and even Harry could tell that would be a disaster. And some other Slytherins had problems with Gryffindors or others as well. In the end, Harry had some of them switch partners, so everyone was A: not near someone they had a heavy grudge with (one of them at one end of the room, the other at another), and B: not partnered with a friend whose movements and habits they wouldknow, and could thus easily counter. Amos Diggory and Amelia Bones later helped him, Hermione and the others keep order in the large group, as Harry could see they could cast the spells very well already. It wasn't long, actually, before Amelia and Amos suggested they partner up with one of the instructors themselves, so they could get their own practice in. Harry nodded in agreement, and partnered with Amelia Bones, while Luna practiced with Amos.

"Nice spell work, Potter," Bones admitted during their duelling. "Not many can manage a Patronus, or cast that accurately at a target. Had a lot of practice?"

"More than I'd like," Harry admitted. "You're pretty good yourself."

"Have to be," Bones answered, shielding herself successfully from his Expelliarmus. "I'm training to be an Auror. Following the example of my father and aunt."

"Deckard and Seraphina, right?" He asked, sending a nonverbal Expelliarmus. "Met them during the holiday when they came over." He ducked aside when one of her spells came too fast for him to shield. "Lovely people, if a bit... forward."

Bones chuckled, and Harry was surprised by that. The serious head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department he'd met at his trial didn't seem like the person to laugh, but she seemed much more alive when she did. He liked that.

"That's one way to describe my aunt," she said, stepping up her game by increasing the speed at which she cast. Harry deftly shielded against the spells, and started dodging to vary things a bit. With his newfound level of power he found he could hold a shield against a simple Expelliarmus for hours, so it wouldn't really be a challenge for him if he only hid behind a shield. "I swear, the next time I hear her say a sex joke I'll hex her."

"Never introduce her to Sirius, then. I've been able to keep those two from being properly introduced, but that might not last forever." he answered, finally finding an opening to retaliate. He sent another disarmer, and finally managed to hit her, sending her wand flying. But she managed to surprise him by wandlessly summoning her wand back before he could catch it.

"Impressive bit of wandless magic," he complimented. "And a good trick, too. I'll remember that one for next time."

"Thank you," Bones responded. Harry took a look around, and saw most of them had the spells down quite well, and most had managed to significantly improve their aim. From the brightness of some of the spells and shields he could see most of them still weren't perfect, but they were clearly all getting better at it.

"Alright, that's enough for now!" He called with the aid of a Sonorous. "Practice on your own until next session on Friday, and if you do well then, we'll focus on the Patronus for the remainder. See you at the next session."

Most of the others seemed excited about that prospect, and all left the room chattering with one another in excitement. Lily, Marlene, Roxanne, Mary, and Pandora all left as a group, as did the Marauders and the remainder of their Gryffindor year mates. Surprisingly, Frank, Alice, and the various Quidditch Captains were all cordial with one another as they left, including Xenophilius. The others all slowly trickled out as they prepared for classes for the day, until only Harry was left.

He smiled in contentment. This was how he'd like to finish Hogwarts: making a difference as he did last time. With the DA preparing people for the war, he could focus on his own training. He briefly wondered if he wasn't spreading himself too thin. After all, he had quite an extensive list of things to do. OWLs, Quidditch team practice, the DA, training himself for the war against Voldemort, analysing his memories for the Horcruxes alongside Fleamont, getting to know the family he could've had...

But he could handle it. If not, it wasn't that big a sacrifice to give up Quidditch, as it was the flying itself he loved, rather than the game. The DA could be delegated to Hermione and the others on short term until he could get things back on track, and Fleamont would understand if he had to search the memories on his own. And his training... As long as he could figure out some sort of trump card against that dark lord for their first encounter, he should be...

A book materialised in front of him, and Harry stumbled backwards. He didn't know he had phrased that as a request of the room. He moved over to pick it up, and swept the dust off the thick tome as he read the title. _The composition of Magical Energy, by Ignotus Peverell._ _Notes added_ _by Iolanthe Peverell_. Curious, he opened the book and tried to read the first page. He'd barely laid eyes on the first word, though, when the door opened.

"Hey, you coming?" Harry was surprised to hear Amelia Bones ask from the doorway. "Classes start in twenty minutes, and you won't have a lot of time to pick up your stuff from Gryffindor tower, never mind getting breakfast."

"Coming, Bones!" he called, sealing his bag so no one could see the Tome he just put in. "Just finishing up the last of the clearing out."

"I was only checking," Bones reassured, and Harry saw her smile again. Yes, he had to admit he liked it. It didn't feel awkward, like it sometimes had with Cho. Cho was fraught with nerves and anguish over what had happened to Cedric, and sought consolation in Harry. But Bones smiled like she really wanted to know him for who he truly was, rather than using him just as a shoulder to cry on.

"And it's Amelia to you, Potter," she added after a moment.

Harry smiled back, as he exited the room at last, the key to his success in his bag. "In that case, I'd prefer it if you call me Harry."

Bones- no, _Amelia_ widened her smile, and he held out his hand for shaking. "Friends?" he asked.

"Friends," she agreed, as they shook hands. Afterwards, her expression fell and became more like the elder woman who'd defended him in court so many years ago. "You better hurry, Harry. Your first transfiguration lesson starts quite soon."

Harry nodded, and they went separate ways in the corridor as he made a detour past Gryffindor tower to pick up his stuff for Transfiguration and Herbology. Combined with the fact the Great Hall was quite a bit of a walk from Gryffindor tower, he only had time to snatch a quick piece of toast and a sip of pumpkin juice before he had to run to catch up to class. He was one of the last to arrive, and he entered panting and heaving from the burst of sprinting he had to do. But he wasn't the last, fortunately. Vinnie and one of the Hufflepuffs seemed to be missing as well. He took the seat next to Ron, as his test at Gringotts indicated he would be one of the better ones at Transfiguration.

A loud explosion echoed outside, and everyone rose from their chairs in concern. Before anyone could move to either the windows or the exit, however, someone crashed into the room from the side window, landing and skidding to a halt in front of the teacher's desk while covered in soot, ash, and small shards of glass. Vinnie didn't even acknowledge his entrance. He just turned, repaired the window he'd just broken and cleaned the soot, ash, and glass that came off of him, before moving to sit next to Moliere. Harry didn't know what he was astounded by more: the fact a student literally was blasted into the classroom, or that the class and the student himself just shrugged it off so easily, as if it was a daily occurrence. He shared a shocked look with Ron.

"Don't look at me," Ron said, his voice also conveying his astonishment at what happened. "The guy just ran for it as soon as the DA ended, saying something about a potion he'd been preparing that needed a checkup."

Harry opened his mouth and closed it multiple times. _Was it really that normal for a student to survive such an explosion_ _and still resume classes without consulting Madam Pomfrey?_ Judging by the multiple galleons being exchanged between hands, it likely was.

The door opened, and Professor McGonagall strode in, briefly inspecting her desk and the windows before turning her attention to the class. "Another dramatic entrance I presume, Mr Santorini?"

"Isn't that the traditional start of the year, professor?" he returned cheekily.

"For that, we also need Moliere to nest in a large vase and make babies." Joshua added.

"The dirt is more comfortable in the pots," Moliere said indignantly, his French accent enhancd by his irritation. "And Madam Sprout has banned me from the greenhouses outside class time."

"Then you shouldn't have dug out half of her Devil's Snare specimen, Mr Moliere," McGonagall said sternly. Her expression softened afterwards as she looked at Harry and the new arrivals in turn.

"Mr Beckett, you and your friends claim to have all tutored together for the last five years. Can you tell me how one turns a rock into a dragon? And a demonstration as well, if you please."

"Eh, the Draconifors spell, professor," Ron answered, before pointing his wand. Harry eyed his movements carefully, not forgetting the second year transfiguration lessons that had gone wrong with Ron's broken wand. To his relief, though, the pebble McGonagall had provided turned into a miniature dragon that even let out a breath of fire before Ron returned it to its original shape.

"Excellent work, Mr Beckett!" McGonagall complimented, before turning her attention to Hermione. "Miss Bay, can you demonstrate how one turns a hedgehog into a pin cushion and back again?" Hermione nodded, and calmly got out her wand before turning it in front of her as McGonagall conjured a hedgehog for her. To his surprise, she managed the spell silently, both the original and the reversal. McGonagall's eyebrows rose, also clearly impressed.

"Ten point to Gryffindor for managing the spell silently." She spoke admiringly, making Hermione blush a bit. McGonagall finally turned her attention to Harry.

"One more question, and I think I will have sufficient faith in your education for you to continue along this class. Tell me, Mr Potter: what are the key differences between a Werewolf and a wolf Animagus?"

Harry swallowed. He'd asked that very same question once, when Remus had been over shortly after Christmas at Grimmauld Place and they'd had a moment of peace from all the cleaning and the tenseness at Arthur Weasley's attack. Harry had wanted to know more about how an Animagus worked so he could one day follow in his father's footsteps after all this was over. Remus and Sirius had freely given an entertaining lecture filled with barbs at one another about how an Animagus and Werewolf differed. Harry knew the answers by heart with how often he'd memorised it.

"Aside from the numerous anatomical differences, it primarily comes down to control," he started. "An Animagus can decide when he wants to turn into a wolf, whereas a Werewolf's transformation is always dictated by the full moon. And even in their animal forms, an Animagus will still mostly have an intact mind when he transforms, and can still see himself as the person he really is. A werewolf, unfortunately, cannot. He... for lack of a better term, the _wolf_ takes over inside his head. The transformation tends to also be rougher, slower, and more painful."

Then, ignoring the approving look of Professor McGonagall and the sympathetic looks Hermione kept throwing Remus, he decided to throw in a last barb to lighten the mood - he couldn't resist. "And a Werewolf doesn't hog the showers as much as most Animagi."

"Damn right," Joshua said, immediately picking up where Harry left off, and McGonagall's approving look turned to one of exasperation as she rolled her eyes to look to the ceiling. "And Werewolves are also much neater, and at least have the decency to fold their socks."

Ron, Neville, and most of the Gryffindors were snickering with laughter at the open secret the Marauders managed to become Animagi, while the Marauders all started a heavy discussion about Werewolf versus Animagus traits.

"A werewolf also spends too much time reading," Sirius pointed out.

"And an Animagus doesn't steal all of my chocolate most of the time," Remus sighed, his exasperation almost matching McGonagall's.

"A Werewolf steals all the cherry bombs to wake up his friends," Vinnie said, and Moliere lost it, rolling on the floor in laughter.

"At least a Werewolf allows you to copy his homework," Remus retorted.

McGonagall sighed loudly, finally drawing the room's attention back to her. "While the last few were very amusing answers, they aren't the ones I was going for. Excellent explanation, Mr Potter."

Harry smiled, pleased he'd gotten enough of transfiguration right he didn't have to take extra lessons on that as well. Potions alone was enough for him.

Transfiguration was over in the blink of an eye, it seemed. Most of the class was spent rehearsing material from last year, and Harry had most of it down pat. Harry also got to see a bit of his father's talent at Transfiguration, and Harry saw it was not exaggerated. True, he could have gotten a clue when his father became the youngest Animagus in recorded history, but it was something else to see it so prominently on display. Every object McGonagall asked him to change, vanish, or conjure he did almost flawlessly on the first or second try, and very rarely required a third. Sirius wasn't that far behind, and also managed to change his rock into a miniature dragon without making any errors.

The surprise prodigy was Ron. When the boy really concentrated and wanted it (something that rarely happened in the classes in his own time, too distracted by talk of Quidditch or whatever nefarious plot happened that year) he could do it almost as masterfully and flawlessly as Harry's father, even if it took him a bit longer to manage. He still had to say the incantation aloud for most of the spells, but since almost everyone else also did (except for himself and Hermione), that didn't matter all that much.

All in all, classes went very well so far. Harry could only hope the rest of the year went the same way.

* * *

 **Good lord, that was long. Next up: First study session with Snape, Bellatrix and Narcissa meet Arcturus, the first full moon and animagus stuff, Lily starts a duel in the library with James, and Harry and Amelia discover the virtues of Portkeys.**

 **Read and Review, if you would be so kind.**

 **Au Revoir**

 **Lucian.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I'm Back!**

 **Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Potter wizarding world**

 **Shoutout: thanks to Wolf's Scream for proofreading! Thank you, you amazing hero!**

 **Request: Read and review, if you would be so kind.**

* * *

Chapter 5

 _ **Potions Labs, Dungeons, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands**_

Harry nervously opened the door, leading Neville and Ginny inside, his wand still in hand. Snape had asked earlier in a passed-on note during the DA if they could meet up a bit earlier than the others for their first meeting so they could go through some of Snape's methods and instructions together.

They were wary initially, and Ron had often protested them doing so during dinner. Slytherins in general were even worse now during the war than in Harry's time. Malfoy, his cronies, and the Quidditch team would insult you or on occasion hex you if you were alone and insulted them. In this time, it was outright dangerous to walk the corridors alone, as quite a few children of Death Eaters were in Slytherin, and they had no compunction against practicing their parents' spells on others if they were not observed by staff. If a teacher or non-Slytherin prefect walked the hall they would stay their hand, but otherwise there was a big chance you could be attacked. Hell, Mary Macdonald had already been put in the hospital wing twice (once with antlers growing out of her head with heavy weights hanging from them, the other with a severe cut on her arm that wouldn't stop bleeding and she had been holding her stomach in pain), and Harry had only managed to avoid it this time by travelling with either the Marauders, his fellow 'travellers', or sticking to the others of his year.

That was what Ron was afraid of: that Snape was leading them into some kind of ambush, and that the next time Harry saw him it would be in the hospital wing. But Harry knew he wouldn't end up there. Snape really wanted that recommendation into the Potion Masters Guild, and they both knew he wouldn't get it if he cursed those he taught. No, aside from an odd potions incident, Harry wasn't likely to end up in the Hospital Wing on Snape's watch.

Fortunately, the lab was empty, save for Snape, eight cauldrons, and the piles of ingredients he'd put ready beside them, spread over two tables close by one another. Snape himself was already busy brewing at one of them, quietly stirring, observing the results and writing notes down in a book beside him.

"One moment," Snape said, raising a finger and making them wait before they could say a word. Once Snape was done writing down his observations, he put his cauldron under a charm they hadn't seen before. The cauldron, the contents, and the fire were covered in a blue-tinted see-through bubble, and all motion in it seemed to stop. A bubble in it stopped bursting mid-event. Snape put down the quill and holstered his wand in a holster on his arm. Harry and the others did likewise: it was clear now they would likely only be interrupted by Lily, Hermione, Ron, and Luna later.

"All right," Snape said. "We're going to practice brewing the Draught of Living Death, as while it is a NEWT-level potion, it is one with the simplest of instructions. Simply start working on your own, and I will watch and observe what you do, and correct you if you do something wrong. Understand?"

Harry nodded, and Snape pointed at the table he'd been working on. "Good. I was working on the same potion myself, and you will be able to see what it should look like in about," Snape rolled up his right sleeve and glanced at a wrist watch, " ten minutes from now." Snape undid the bubble charm, which allowed the potion to continue to brew.

Harry nodded, and immediately got to work. He read through the instructions in his own copy of the Potions textbook. It was indeed not that difficult at first glance: cut and prepare the ingredients properly, add them to the water, and start stirring. That was it, nothing to be added halfway, nothing that had to settle for weeks, nowhere they had to adjust the flame of the potion. Indeed, for a NEWT-level potion it was one of the simplest Harry had seen in his life.

"I see where you usually go wrong, Beckett," Snape said, and Harry looked up to see him standing with Ginny. "Your ingredients aren't cut properly. I know it's difficult with a slippery ingredient like a Sopophorous bean, but you must always cut ingredients as precisely as instructed."

"N- not to be witty," Neville stammered nervously. "But you don't f-follow the instructions to the letter either."

Snape let out a sigh of irritation, but nodded. "True. But I know what I'm doing when I divert. Let me give you an example." He paused. "On second thought, also take this as a new instruction on how to prepare a Draught of Living Death."

Harry and Neville nodded and gave Snape their undivided attention for the first time, as the boy stood with Ginny and picked up her knife and bean. Ginny was also watching Snape's instructions closely as he performed them.

"It's easier to crush the bean under the flat side of your knife," he explained. "If you cut up an ingredient to add it, I recommend you follow instruction and cut it exactly as described: not a millimetre more or less. But for instances as this, where you cut up an ingredient to get the juices inside, it's easier to crush it. It gets a lot more of the juices out." He followed his own instructions, and pressed the flat side of the knife down on the bean. As the bean was flattened a lot of the juices spelled out of the cracks and holes that formed in the bean − a lot more than Harry expected.

"And what if we need something inside, for example moon seeds?" Ginny asked.

"You still crush them," Snape answered. "But you watch more closely and press down a lot more carefully, or you might crush the seed you're trying to get. But gentle pressure on the shell should allow you to get the moon seed inside."

Harry nodded, and decided to follow the man's instructions for his own potion, as he prepared the ingredients the way Snape recommended. As he'd expected, he got a lot more juice from the ten beans or so he'd been given, and the potion turned out exactly as the book described — something that had only happened once before, earlier this week when he and Neville sat near Lily. In the past it had always been slightly off-colour. He was glad he could finally do it according to instruction, something that had been drilled into him at the Dursleys.

"Good; you've all added the ingredients," Snape noted. "Now, the instructions say to keep stirring until the potion turns as clear as water-" he paused and looked up. Harry and the others did too, and found themselves staring at the door. A second later it opened, and Lily, Hermione, Ron, and Luna walked in, heading for the other table.

"Hi, Lily," Snape greeted her, his tone suddenly a lot more lively than before. "I've prepared for the Draught of Living Death and Stoppered Speed. Give them our set of instructions. They seem to catch on with my group."

"Got it," Lily agreed, and helped them set everything up before she began instructing. Snape returned his attention to their group as Harry gave a thumb's up at Ron and Hermione, who sagged their shoulders in relief.

"Now, as I was saying," Snape resumed his instructions. "The normal instructions tell you to keep stirring until it becomes as clear as water, but Lily and I found adding a counter-clockwise stir after every seventh stir prevents the potion from settling too much, and allows the ingredients to mix completely."

Harry nodded, and set to work. He faintly heard Ginny tell Snape she got it from here, that it was always in the ingredient stage she mucked it up. Snape let her work, and briefly inspected Harry's work before turning to help Neville, who seemingly stirred too fast. Harry found himself actually starting to enjoy Potions. Under the older Snape it had been hell. He rarely explained anything properly to them, and only berated the Gryffindors and deducted points instead of telling them how to do it right. But the younger Snape, while still a bit blunt and forward, was actually quite helpful, and didn't immediately start glaring down at them as they worked.

"Impressive," Snape said from behind him. "I honestly expected work similar to your brother's. For once I am glad to be wrong about a Potter."

"Happy to disappoint you on that one," Harry replied, as he looked a bit closer at his potion. It seemed to be as clear as Snape had instructed. "Is this how it's supposed to look?" He asked.

Snape looked down into the cauldron, and nodded. "You can compare it to my potion if you'd like. But yes, it seems to be perfect. Only way to be sure would be to taste it, but I've got the wrong Potter in the classroom for that."

"What a shame," Harry replied without thinking. "You surely would want him to take a sip, wouldn't you?"

"I would," Snape responded in kind. "But we have no counter potion on hand, and I would be implicated in the poisoning."

"Fair enough," Harry admitted. He smiled as he scooped up a vial of his Draught and set it beside the cauldron before turning to Snape for instructions. Snape was busy gathering vials from Neville and Ginny's potions. He then turned and with a silent wave of his wand vanished the contents of all four cauldrons on the tables. Harry rose his eyebrows, impressed at the feat. Vanishing was only taught later in the year, and that Snape could already do it — nonverbally — was a testament to his skill.

"I'll go and help Lily's group, so we can all work on Stoppered Speed together. You can do what you want until I come back," Snape told them before walking over to Lily's table, where they only now had started to add the ingredients. He paused midway and turned his head. "Aside from brewing an Exploding Potion. It's quite volatile, and I still need the ingredients and cauldrons."

"Good to know you're concerned for our well-being," Harry muttered.

"As if," Snape called back as he arrived at Ron's potion and started helping out. Harry silently cursed himself: he hadn't meant for Snape to hear that. In his own time he would have gotten detention for a week for that. But this Snape, instead of getting angry, actually had humour and responded in kind. It was actually- almost refreshing, to have a Potions teacher with such a sense of humour.

Ginny was writing down the tips and tricks Snape had taught her in her own Potions textbook, and Neville was staring dumbly at his own work, in shock. Snape had graded his work to be perfect. That left Harry on his own with little to do.

Oh, well. If they were going to start brewing again in fifteen minutes, he might as well take the time to prepare the ingredients. He looked back at the index at the end of the book, and looked up Stoppered Speed, before turning the book to the right page. He found that all the remaining ingredients were already with him on the table. As a matter of fact, he found he had an extra ingredient, some moon seed, as Ginny had mentioned.

The rest of the tutoring session, once they had all caught up around where they should be, went very well: as with the Draught of Living Death, the Stoppered Speed was created perfectly under his mother and Snape's oversight. Only Ron made a mistake once, actually stirring a time too much, but Lily took the opportunity to teach them how to correct such mistakes in potions. And here they all gave her their undivided attention, after Snape put the same odd bubbles around their potions. This was something the Snape of their time had never taught them. She taught them how the properties of one ingredient had the potential to counteract others and could revert the potion back to a certain state from which they could start over, which was the reason Slughorn assigned them essays on ingredients in the first place. It was a very enlightening lesson, and Harry thought that if this was how Potions had always been taught to him he might not have alienated himself from the subject too much. The older Snape had left too bitter a taste and reminder for him to really enjoy the subject, but with instructions like this it was tolerable, and time went by much faster.

Of course, the fact he, Snape, and his mother all had the same sense of humour went a long way as well, to the exasperation of Hermione and the snickers of the others.

The lessons themselves had quite a bit of practical use as well: aside from poisons or other dangerous things like the Draught they'd just brewed, Snape allowed them to keep all of the potion, and Harry would later that evening leave the lab with a dozen vials of Stoppered Speed in his bag.

"That lesson actually went well," Snape complimented them at the end. "When you told me how you were instructed I feared the worst. But it seems you're actually _competent_."

"Quite a shock after lessons with my brother, I'm sure," Harry said.

"Quite," Snape agreed. "If this keeps up I might end up not hating all the Potters."

"You forget," Ron pointed out in Harry's defence. "His uncle Fleamont actually created the Sleekeazy Potion. He's quite the competent potioneer."

Snape's face cleared in surprise. "I had actually forgotten that," He smirked. "Makes me wonder why you don't use it more often yourself, Potter."

"He happens to like it this way," Luna answered before Ron's temper could get the better of him. "Makes him more receptive to Magicking Morphs. They could nest in that."

"A lot more can nest in that than just a Magicing Morph," Neville snickered. Harry took on a mock-indignant look.

"Hey! This is Potter hair. You don't mess with that," he pouted.

Snape sighed dramatically. "And here I had hope you were different from your brother. Such a shame."

"No worries," Harry reassured. "You can go back to hating all the Potters in peace."

"Yippie," Snape said sarcastically, before looking at his watch again. He blanched. "Curfew's almost here. I suggest you get back to your dorms. I'll tell Slughorn what we used."

They all nodded in agreement. "See you in next class," Hermione said as a goodbye. Snape nodded and strode to his own common room.

The seven Gryffindors all practically ran for it, as curfew was in three minutes, and from this far down in the dungeons it was almost fifteen to Gryffindor tower's entrance. They didn't make it in time, and had to make a large detour when they caught sight of Peeves patrolling ahead of them, but they had the luck of not running into professors or other prefects. As they finally made it to the Common Room, it actually occurred to Harry that he'd enjoyed these Potions lessons, and that Snape had been a lot friendlier and less insulting than usual.

He hoped he and Snape could do the same with the future lessons.

* * *

 _ **Black Ancestral Manor, Black lands, Border between Ireland and Northern Ireland**_

 _This is a mistake._ Bellatrix kept repeating in her head, as she walked into the lobby. _A great and terrible mistake._

 _And yet you're both still doing it._ A voice said in her head. A voice that annoyingly sounded like her older sister Andi.

 _I was forced to come here._ Bella reminded herself. _If I wouldn't, Granddad would use the Black Family magic to force me to come here anyway, or use a form of Blood Magic._

 _And yet you ensured he wouldn't._

 _I'd rather come of my own volition than under a glorified Imperius Curse._

 _So you_ do _want to come here?_ The other voice asked smugly. Bella had no response to that, so she did the same thing she did whenever the voice had a good point. She ignored it for the remainder of the day.

She shared a hesitant look with her other sister, Cissy, as they reached the door to the living room. Neither of them had a clue about why they'd been summoned here. They'd been under the impression that as her father had signed off on her marriage contract to the Lestranges, people who were known Blood Purists despite old Reginald's love for Randolph, that her grandfather approved of their allegiance to the Dark Lord. Hell, Bella had believed Granddad even supported him, given how little the contact between them was and how little he acted against the man despite his power. So why did he want to speak so urgently about the Dark Lord, and even going so far as subtly threatening them with family magic to get them to come?

Bella let out a sigh. The only way she'd find out was by going into the room. Resigning herself to her fate, she opened the door.

She was surprised by the lively demeanour of her grandfather, as she and Cissy strode into the living room. Last she'd seen him he'd been a surly old man, grumbling about the 'glorious' old days, always sitting in his luxurious chair staring at the fire, letting his children and grandchildren do as they please.

Now, however, he stood tall and proud, as he was casting various spells at a dark object, with two men observing. One she immediately recognised as a Potter, though she couldn't distinguish whether it was the Baron her grandfather was such good friends with, or the brother who usually lived somewhere overseas. The other was definitely a Croft, though Bella also didn't know his first name. She never bothered remembering the names of her grandfather's old friends, especially after her father chastised her for her curiosity about the Great Alliance and had her focus her attention on the Dark Lord and his Death Eater Movement.

Her grandfather finally turned to her, and she saw he hadn't aged well since the last time she'd seen him three years ago at her Hogwarts graduation. While he still had his good-looking aristocratic features and intriguing grey eyes, his grey hair had lost nearly all of its black colour, and he now sported a short, finely trimmed beard and moustache that covered his chin, jawline, lower cheeks, and the area above and below his mouth. He also wielded a cane, though Bella knew that was misleading. Lord 'funnybeard' Greengrass also sometimes used a cane, yet Bella knew his could be extended to become a battle staff. And the Malfoy family, the vain gits, had a tradition of hiding their wands in the heads of their own canes, and had them carved with Runes and enchanted so they could act as improvised shields against spells.

But when he stopped casting at the object and turned to look at his grandchildren, he shocked them and had a small, hopeful smile. Bella saw Cissy actually take a small step back in shock. Arcturus Black never smiled.

"Bella, Cissy, thank you for coming," he said happily. He walked over to them, leaning on his cane as he supported his weight on it. "My apologies; I invited your sister, too. But she was forced to reschedule, citing her _troubled relationship with her sisters_ that would disrupt the atmosphere here."

Bella winced, something her sister managed to resist. While they hadn't been hostile to her sister for running away with her muggleborn friend to elope, they hadn't exactly been friendly either. Their last meeting, in fact barely a month ago, had ended rather heatedly; only the arrival of that bitch Walburga and her family preventing the elder two sisters from drawing wands on one another. And Walburga's outrage at Andi had run her off before Bella and Cissy could apologise and make things up properly.

Not with her tail between her legs, though (Andi was still a Black in blood after all, regardless of Walburga blasting her off the family tree), but with a well-cast spell taught to her by a younger housemate, that left Walburga disarmed and dangling in the air by her ankles. The situation had been too tense at the time to laugh, but Bella had been deeply impressed and amused by her older sister. It took Great Aunt Cassie, a prominent enchanter, charms mistress, and Knockturn Alley's most notorious Information Broker, hours to get her down from there.

Cissy helped their grandfather to one of the chairs and lowered him into it. Bella got a look from her sister that insisted that she do something too. Bella rolled her eyes and moved to the decanter on the side table, and got it and five glasses to the table in front of her Grandfather

"Thank you," he said, as he poured himself, his granddaughters, and his two guests a bit of muggle scotch. "How are my granddaughters doing these days?" He asked, taking a sip of the stuff himself as the sisters lowered themselves in the sofa in front of him. The Potter and Croft took seats in the chairs next to Grandfather and the sofa, completing a staggered circle, of sorts.

Bella shared a frown with Cissy. Her grandfather had never showed interest or concern about his descendants in the last ten years, and ignored most of what went on inside the family. He ignored it when his heir ran away from the Grimmauld Townhouse in the early summer of 1975, as well as when Sirius and his brother Regulus were repeatedly kept under the Cruciatus curse before that. He ignored it when her father and mother signed all of their children into marriage contracts just to fatten his own Gringott vaults, and he ignored it when the oldest ran away and got herself blasted off the family line to be with a muggleborn. Blast, he even ignored the weddings of the remaining two daughters, as well as when Bella's husband coerced her into taking the Dark Mark, threatening the boy she'd been falling for if she didn't take it, as well as her own slow descent into the madness of the Death Eaters. Why let them into his private Manor and seek out contact now?

"We're doing fairly well, all things considered," Cissy said neutrally. "Our family is prospering, and my husband and his father have made quite a few prominent business deals, of which I managed to siphon a percentage of the profits into the Black Family vaults. I don't recall the exact amount, but I believe they've made our family roughly one and a half million galleons richer."

"Fairly good," Grandfather nodded in appreciation. "I see you've managed to keep busy. And how about you, Bella? All is well in your life?"

Bella took a few moments to compose her answer. Most of the time since her grandfather last saw her she'd mostly spent serving the Dark Lord, which mostly consisted of aiding several attacks, torturing Muggleborns, hunting blood traitors, and training herself to be a better duelist. Not knowing her grandfather's current stance on the matter, she decided to predominantly focus on the latter.

"I can't complain, Grandfather," she replied, which was true in a way: her husband and his morons of a brother and father rarely tolerated complaints from anyone, and the Dark Lord tortured you if you did. "I'm training to become an expert duelist, and I believe I'm coming along fairly well. I think I'll be ready to compete in the European circuit by this time next year."

"Good," her grandfather commented. "Taking after your family's ancestors. A worthy goal if there ever was one, in my opinion." He then leaned forward, the cane forgotten beside him as it leaned against the chair. "And what of your husbands?" Her grandfather asked. "And their… _Employer_? A Dark Lord, he called himself."

 _Oh boy_. Bella let out an internal sigh. Judging from the tone alone he did _not_ approve of what the Dark Lord was doing. They were in for it, Bella especially when he found out she'd been Marked.

"They are doing well," Cissy answered, her hesitant tone conveying her own unease with her grandfather's question. "Lucius has recently been admitted audience, and he and Rudolphus' father both have his ear when it comes to their financial matters," Cissy risked a glance at Bella, but she chose to remain silent. She didn't trust herself to not make a fool of herself and say too much if she did.

"Lucius and Randolph have his ear," Grandfather mused, before glancing at the Potter. "Fleamont, do you think he would hide one of those things with the Malfoys or Lestranges? You're one of the experts after all."

The foreign Potter then, Bella surmised. She knew the other was called Charlus, so that ruled out the Baron at any rate. Potter nodded. "There's no way to be sure. He trusts absolutely no one, owing to his troubled childhood and abandonment. And that would go double for Lestrange: if he double-crossed once, what's to say he won't do it again? But if they both are currently favoured advisers of his, there's a good chance they'd hide the Diary with either of them."

Bella lost them for a moment. Childhood? Diary? Why were they so interested in the Dark Lord's past?

"And you, Bella?" Her grandfather asked. "Your husband is doing well?"

"Let's just say most of the news outlets have the right of it," Bella said delicately. Clearly, she wasn't getting the easy way out. She decided to tell the truth, knowing the punishment for lying was severe in her grandfather's house. "He and his brother and father are very involved in the field jobs, and have had his counsel for a while, though that was lost with that botch job at the Ministry."

"Oh?" Her grandfather asked, sounding mildly surprised. "From what I understand they took a large number of ministry employees out of commission, and ended the ministry's role in the war for the foreseeable future."

"True, but it cost us half of the human Pureblood followers in the process," Bella answered, taking a sip of that horrible scotch so she didn't seem rude by not drinking. "His followers since then mostly consists of Werewolves, Vampires, Giants, and whatever rogue elements and factions he and others managed to scrape from the gutter. Far from the Pureblood paradise he'd hoped for." Bella smiled wickedly at the image of the destruction popped into her head. "Something I presume we have you to thank for."

Her grandfather shocked her a second time and made an actual chuckle. Cissy practically choked in her drink when it happened. "Yes, I did happen to throw a flask of potent Exploding Potion," Her grandfather admitted. "It was quite a large explosion that followed, mind you. I-"

"Why are we here, grandfather?" Cissy interrupted. "You've never shown an interest in our lives before this, and Pollux had to practically drag you to our graduation ceremonies at Hogwarts. So why change now?"

Her grandfather gave a brief, chastising glare for interrupting, but sighed and leaned back. "And here I was hoping to work you up to it. Alright, I admit I've done a piss-poor job of managing our family the last two decades. Not raising your father the right way, letting Pollux run amok with the Dark Lord, letting Walburga alienate my Heir from the family, letting both you and your sister be put in marriage contracts, forcing Andi to run away to be with the one she loves…"

Her grandfather paused and sighed at his list of failures, and Bella saw a softer side of him. The one she only now realised he'd been showing them since they'd arrived, instead of the strict, harsh, surly man she'd known most of her life. Now, she saw the man who cared about his family, and wanted the world for them. The side she suspected he'd only showed to his friends in the Great Alliance in the past. Bella wondered why he didn't show it to his family earlier, but felt it was rude to ask.

"I recently had my large failures pointed out to me," Her grandfather continued. "What would happen if I let you all stay on this course." He paused and looked them all directly in the eye in turn, starting with Bella. "You, turned to insanity because you couldn't keep your conscience intact with what the Dark Lord made you do. Thrown in prison for torturing families to the point they can't even recognise their own blasted child they are so traumatised and insane."

Bellatrix winced again. That _had_ happened in the past, that she'd held the Cruciatus curse too long and her victims had turned mad. But she always mercy-killed them afterwards. Even if they were Bloodtraitors, Mudbloods, Muggles and squibs, no one deserves to live like that. _No one!_

Her grandfather turned to Cissy. "You, reduced to a trophy wife for Lucius Malfoy and kept from raising your son properly, only allowed to socialise and mix with other Pureblood trophy wives instead of pursuing the same career as your aunt Cassie. Your dream career, I remember you calling it when you last met."

Cissy drew a face, making her opinion of that outcome _very_ clear.

"I want the best in the world for all of my children and grandchildren," Her grandfather continued, after taking another sip of his scotch. "For a long time, I thought I could get that for you by letting you make your own choices, even if they were wrong and mistaken at the time. But I've learned things in the last few months that showed me I should have kept a tighter hold of the reins," He paused, before summoning the head Black Elf, Kreacher, and getting a quill, ink, and parchment. "Tell me, what do you want the most? You can name anything."

Bella paused skeptically. "Anything?"

"Anything," Her grandfather confirmed. "You want a career as an enchanter? I'll get Cassie to offer you an apprenticeship in the Enchanting Guild. Want to become the best duelist in the world? I'll train you myself until you can stand up to the likes of Voldemort and Dumbledore themselves," He paused, before adding. "You want out of your marriage contracts? It'll take years of work, but I can manage that. Name it, and I'll do my best to help you get it."

Bella took in a sharp breath. A way out of her cursed marriage to Rudolphus Lestrange? This was real? She evaluated her grandfather, and saw nothing but honesty and hopefulness in his eyes, and she knew he was sincere with this offer.

"And what if we are employed by the Dark Lord?" Cissy asked uncertainly.

"That's up to you," Her grandfather answered in a new tone, and Bella realised that for some reason _this_ was where he'd wanted the conversation to go. "If you want out, to have the mark removed, I'll do my best to have you out of there as soon as possible, and I'll pay Gringotts Cursebreakers to have that mark removed from your body, if you ever took it. If you want to stay in his service, I'll even send you back to him with a sack filled with galleons," He paused. "But if you do want that, you need to know something."

Croft walked towards them, and put a pair of thick books on the table in front of them. Bella saw they were the same books: _Secrets of the Darkest Arts_ by _Owle Bullock_. Croft waved his wand, and both books opened and started going through their pages, before finally resting somewhere in the middle of the book. Bellatrix looked down and read the chapter title.

"Horcruxes?" Bella asked, confused. She'd never heard of those things. Arcturus nodded. "This _Dark Lord_ of yours made several already, and is planning to make six in total. Keep that in mind as you read the chapter."

Bellatrix nodded, as she picked up the book and started reading.

 _As discussed earlier, there are many forms of Soul Magic, Light and Dark in Nature. A few examples are Soul Exorcising, which is literally ripping a Soul from one's body, or Soul Corruption, which is tainting the soul with so much dark magic and bad emotions it ensures the Soul no longer suits the body, which drives the victim insane. Both are arts the Dementors are absolute masters at, and one should seriously consider having them teach these to you should you control the creatures._

 _But Horcrux magic… Oh, that is the darkest form of Magic one can consider. I will warn you right now, creating one Horcrux is often enough to drive you insane, to the point of irrationality. Creating several is downright foolish, and only those very desperate not to die will consider something that irresponsible._

 _That being said, Horcruxes are a form of immortality, if a dangerous one. A Horcrux is created when one commits murder and cannibalism, the worst sins one can commit, in the ritual described below, in order to split their soul in half. One piece will return to the body, leaving a man with an unstable soul behind, with Soul Corruption being one of the worst consequences, though that can be masked by one cunning enough to master Occlumency. The remaining piece is put in a near-indestructible magical container. This way, should one be killed, their soul cannot pass on to the afterlife due to those anchors. Simply put, so long as the container remains one cannot die._

 _It is strongly recommended to seek out other means of immortality, such as the Elixir of Life, for example. Creating a Horcrux, as stated a few times before, is bound to drive one insane. But aside from that, if left on its own long enough, the piece tends to develop a mind and will of its own, to the point it actually thinks it is the creator, and will seek to regain a body. It also permanently puts those in direct physical contact in a foul mood, and can leech the very life from those exposed to it for prolonged periods of time to power itself._

Bella started to grow sick the longer she read on, as the book described in detail what could happen if one created a Horcrux. Insanity, a drain of one's magical energy to power the creation of the Horcrux, Soul Corruption… This is what the Dark Lord had done? _Multiple times_?! She risked a glance at her sister, and saw a matching look of revulsion mirrored on her face. That was, until Cissy looked away and vomited over the side of the sofa. Bella had better control of her stomach than that for the moment; she wasn't that weak of heart, but she did understand where her sister was coming from with this. A soul was holy in the magical community. One didn't mess with it, unless it was to initiate a soul bond or examine a taint of dark magic in one's body, and even then things were done with extreme care. One never did something as careless, as stupid… as _this_.

Her grandfather sat in front of her, a grim look on his face. "That was my initial reaction, too," as he Vanished the mess by the sofa.

"You're sure he wants to make more?" Cissy asked.

"We have obtained a memory that showed him having particular interest in the number seven when he discussed Horcruxes," Potter confirmed. "Since he was a talented Arithmancer, he would know the magical power of the number seven, which makes us believe he wants to make six: his own soul, and six anchors that spread out from it like a web."

"Three is also an Important magical number." Bella pointed out. She'd followed Arithmancy as well, back when she was at Hogwarts, and did know a lot about it. In fact, she'd tutored a number of lower years in it, like Severus Snape, Cyrus Greengrass, Norman Farley, and others.

"We have evidence he created at least four." Potter dismissed her point. "And since he values magical numbers, we believe he's going for seven. Besides, one can only split their soul so many times before there's too little left to split, so we believe seven's the only remaining viable option."

"Fortunately we already destroyed one, and we think we have identified another as well, even if we don't know where it is yet," Croft told them. "But as for the others, we are unfortunately clueless at the moment."

"The Diary," Bella realised. Her grandfather nodded, impressed.

"Yes. We know he had a diary in Hogwarts that he enchanted as a hobby and an extra credit project for school, so it would write back and respond the same way he would. And if he infused it with a piece of his soul, it could develop a mind of its own."

Bella looked down at her left forearm with a new look of revulsion. And she'd let that… that _beast_ mark her like cattle? She felt the growing desire to simply cut her own arm off and have it regrow, the pain be damned.

"This leads to what I wanted to discuss," her grandfather said with a tone of resignation. "Judging from your looks and tones when speaking of this, I don't think you still want to continue serving him, or to be married to people that do. But I have a big favour to ask of you. And before you ask, no is a perfectly acceptable answer. I won't blame you for wanting to be rid of anything involving him forever, but-"

"You want us to continue serving him?!" Bella asked as she realised this. Was her grandfather bloody mad?! He expected her to go back to that bastard's home after showing her all this?!

"I don't want this," Her grandfather defended himself. "By Salazar, if it were up to me you would be hidden on the other end of the world if it meant he would never find you again. But we need to know what the other Horcruxes are and where he has hidden them, or the bases and homes of all of his followers if nothing else. This bastard and his movement need to be eliminated, and at the moment we simply lack the information to do so entirely. We need inside help, and like it or not you are the best chance we've got."

Bella made note her grandfather had used the word _we_ as she considered this. As much as she hated to admit it, her grandfather had a good point. They could fight him for the rest of their lives, but as long as his Horcruxes remained the dark- no, _Voldemort_ would not be defeated. She saw the obvious need to find out as much as possible about them and where they were, and that this was done the best way by someone on the inside. But one look at her sister, and Bella knew Cissy couldn't do it. Her sister was never that good at Occlumency, or hiding her true emotions and thoughts about things, and right now she wouldn't last an hour if she were to return. If anyone had to do it, it certainly couldn't be Cissy.

As much as she hated to admit it, this left only her as a plausible option. With a resigned tone, she accepted.

"I'll do it. Merlin curse me for this, but I'll do it."

Her grandfather nodded, and let out a sigh of his own. "Thank you, Bell-"

"I have terms," Bella interrupted, silencing her grandfather. "I want a Portkey out in case it gets too much for me to handle, and a reservation to have the Dark Mark removed and my marriage to Rudolphus annulled as soon as I do. Also, Cissy's marriage to Malfoy gets annulled with it, Andi gets restored to the family tapestry, and Aunt Walburga gets cast out in her place. Cousins Sirius and Regulus get to stay, as well as Uncle Orion. Lastly, my sisters, cousins, and I get the freedom to marry whomever the bloody hell we want. Mud- Muggleborn, Muggle, squib, Halfblood, Pureblood… No one in the family gets to contract us out and decide for us who we are to spend the rest of our lives with."

These demands would be quite high, Bella knew. Despite her moments of cruelty, sadism, and insanity, Walburga was quite the socialite and was good at mingling with people of upper classes and getting the House of Black valuable sources and contacts. And Walburga would vehemently oppose Andi, Bella's own sister, being restored to the family line. And since the Blacks had a history of signing their offspring off in marriage contracts and honouring them until the death of either spouse… With her demands, Bellatrix was going against a large number of Black traditions.

But this was something she had to do. The war and the divide between houses had torn their family apart for the last time, and no one would be caught in that _disgusting monster's_ grip when Grandfather took him down. And the Black sisters and brothers had been very close for a long time. In fact, it wasn't until Pollux started pressuring her and her sisters into joining _Voldemort's_ ranks, and Walburga doing the same with her less than receptive cousins that the friendship really deteriorated, something that wasn't aided by the fact Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor.

Then again, with no Black being sorted in another house for at least five generations, it might do the family some good to have more variety.

Her grandfather, fortunately, nodded with each of the requests, and even wrote them down on the parchment. "Deal. I'll even throw in the same marriage terms for any of your children, grandchildren, and other descendants, signing it with Blood magic so it cannot be reversed. Will that suffice?"

Bella nodded, letting out a sigh of relief. Her future in the Black family was secured, as was her freedom from this point on. She and Cissy could get the lives they wanted, and Andi would be welcomed back with open arms. Well, open arms by the people that mattered. It even gave her a chance to restore her troubled friendship with Siri and Reg.

"Show Regulus the book, too," Cissy spoke softly. "I can guide him away from joining _Voldemort_ with his classmates, but that could take years before he'd make the actual decision. Showing him the truth like this would definitely speed it up."

Grandfather nodded. "I'll show him during the Christmas holidays. Cissy, do you have other places to stay when you leave the Malfoy's?"

Cissy nodded. "I own an apartment in Diagon Alley Lucius and Abraxus don't know about, directly opposite Ollivander's. I'll gather my belongings and head there."

Grandfather shook his head. "Too risky. You're still pretty close to Wizarding hotspots then, and still at risk in case of an attack on the Alley. Wait there, and I'll arrange for a Portkey to the Delacour summer house, or the cottage near Durmstrang if you prefer."

"Make it a trip to the Potter Holdings in the USA, in that case," Cissy said. "Easier access for when Cassie wants to come for that apprenticeship, and I can also pursue my other dream of a Potions Mastery. That is, if you'll have me," She directed that last bit at the Potter, who Bella had forgotten was also in the room.

Potter smiled. "I'll have to give you a test to see what you can and cannot do, but it won't be that much of a problem. I'll even help you pick out a new home."

Grandfather nodded and nimbly rose, and Bella saw he did this without the aid of a cane. Only now did she realise he didn't need it at all; it was just an act to seem older and more harmless than he actually was.

A cunning deception worthy of Slytherin.

"Thank you for meeting me," Her grandfather said, handing her his medallion, a replica of accurate drawings of Slytherin's locket, and casting Portus at it, and afterwards putting it around her neck. "Say 'Bloodhound' when you think it's too much for you to handle, and the Portkey will take you straight back here," her grandfather instructed. "But you can leave as soon as you know the location of all the Horcruxes he's made."

Bella nodded, and hid the necklace beneath her inner robes, the collar of which extended to just underneath her collarbone. "If they're out there, I'll find them, Grandfather. Toujours Pur."

"Toujours Pur," Grandfather said in agreement. Now a bit more hopeful of their futures, the two sisters walked out.

* * *

 _ **Fifth year Boys' dormitory, Gryffindor tower, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands.**_

Harry waited until the three were gone until opening his eyes and getting up. This was it. Tonight was the first full moon of their time at Hogwarts. And it was also the first time Harry could join them. During summer break the Marauders, Charlus, and Fleamont had wandered to the edge of the property and accompanied Remus in their Animagus forms, far away from the rest of the household. But now, Harry had finally managed his Animagus form, and he could join his father and his friends.

And the best thing was, none of the Marauders knew they'd already managed it. It would be a welcome surprise for them.

Harry and the other 'travellers' had gotten together, wanting to give Remus a pleasant surprise considering his first full moons had been missed, and they all belatedly realised they didn't know the boy's birthday. So Luna, in her blunt and honest way, simply suggested they practice and master their Animagus forms together, and surprise Remus all at once on the first full moon they could manage. And with luck and determination, they'd each finally managed it, Hermione being the last one to fully manage hers. True, none of them had mastered it enough that they could do it instantaneously like James, Sirius, and Peter, but they could all hold it indefinitely if they needed it. And given they would all be entertaining a Werewolf tonight, they likely would.

The homework Remus would be too tired to finish would be covered as well. The other dorm mates on the boys' end were in the know on the furry problem, and while not as dedicated as the Marauders, they did cover for Remus whenever they could, and each of them took a subject for which they would do Remus's homework assignments whenever the moon hit and he was too sick to make it. Harry covered DADA (he spoke the words and his father wrote them down, considering his own handwriting and forgery skills were _questionable_ at best); Ron, Astronomy; Neville ensured Herbology was covered; James, Transfiguration; Sirius did Charms; Peter handled Care of Magical Creatures; Vinnie, Potions; Joshua held down Arithmancy; and Moliere did Runes. History (despite Ron and Sirius protesting they didn't need to with Binns) was rotated among them all.

Ron and Neville also got up as soon as they realised Harry was moving to get his clothes on, and hurried to do the same. Harry ensured they also had a spare change of clothes for Remus for when he changed back, having overheard that the Marauders sometimes forgot it. After ensuring they all had what they needed, including the spare clothes for Remus after the full moon, they headed down the stairs.

Hermione and the other two girls were already waiting in the empty common room. Judging by the fact Hermione was still wearing the same Hogwarts uniform from earlier today and Luna's hair was still as dirty as ever Harry wasn't sure whether they'd gone to bed earlier and come down later, or they'd just waited somewhere out of sight until the Marauders walked past on their way to the Shack.

"Alright, how do we do this?" Neville asked. "That cloak isn't gonna cover all of us."

"You and Ron are the largest and worst at Disillusionment, so you two use the cloak," Hermione answered immediately, resorting to her usual bossy tone. "Luna and I will cover the rest of us with Disillusionment charms, so we can still walk through the school relatively undetected. Harry, could you do us a favour, and silence all of our footsteps?"

Harry nodded, and applied the necessary charms. It wasn't that hard to do them, especially since the Horcrux removal and the night he'd reached his magical maturity. It had been very interesting, to say the least. He didn't feel any different, but he'd received an automatic notification the Trace on his wand had been dropped, and any form of magic he mastered from now on, outside of those outlawed in general of course, were legal unless in violation of the Statute of Secrecy. Ron had been mighty jealous that evening, especially since his own magical maturity would still be nearly two years away. But he'd learned to see the good in it: that Harry could do all sorts of good things for them without getting in trouble.

It came in handy a lot these days, as he could cast most of his spells silently. That helped a lot during their sneaking around this evening. They had a run in with Mrs. Peterson (the predecessor of Mrs. Norris) as well, but Ron's Animagus form managed to scare her off, and by the time Filch came to inspect the commotion they were long gone. They also had a run in with Peeves, but Neville, inspired by Harry's solution from their first year, imitated the voice from the Bloody Baron exceptionally well, and got him diverted to cause havoc near the entrance of the Great Hall.

Aside from that, they ran into none of the Prefect patrols this evening, and got near the Whomping a Willow without further trouble. Harry sent a glare at it, reminded that the tree had destroyed his broom and given him a wallop he'd never forget in the same year far in the future (damn that was an odd sentence Harry wasnt used to), but since it was still frozen from when the Marauders passed through he managed to get beneath it.

He waited a bit further back in the tunnel so the others all had space to enter as well. He actually bumped into Ginny doing so, and they both stumbled over one of the Willow's roots, him falling on top of her.

"Awww, he's literally falling for you," Luna whispered with amusement in her voice, and Harry and Ginny scrambled to get up, realising their rather compromising position. The others were all standing there, looking at them in amusement.

"Shall we?" Harry asked before they could make any more inappropriate jokes or remarks as they all ended the charms and gave the cloak to Harry for safekeeping. Ron put Remus's spare clothes down near the hatch as they approached, and Neville lifted it up. They all carefully hauled themselves into the shack, before quietly closing the hatch and looking for the Marauders. It wasn't long before Harry found them in one of the upstairs bedrooms.

As predicted, all four heads immediately turned in alarm as they entered, and Remus's eyes widened in concern the most. "What the hell are you guys doing here?!" He almost yelled. "It's too dangerous for you to be near me."

"Remus, you fold your socks," Neville said with amusement. "That doesn't scream 'scary and dangerous' to me."

"I can hurt you, Neville," Remus said, before turning with pleading eyes to Hermione. "Make them see reason, Hermione. You're the most sensible of the lot, you can stop them."

Hermione looked at him with pity, and moved to sit by him and the Marauders on the bed. "Remus, were doing this to help you. Can't you see that?" At his look, a mix of confusion and shock, she rolled her eyes. "Remus, we're your friends. Friends help each other out, no matter their quirks. And honestly, I have no problem with this."

"This is what I've been telling you all along," Sirius said as if he'd made this point many times to his stubborn friend. "They all want to help you, Remus. All you've got to do is let them in."

"But unless you've got Animagus forms, you…" He trailed off, and his eyes widened in realisation the same time the Marauders did.

"You managed it already, didn't you?" James asked in wonder.

"We wanted to surprise you," Harry admitted, looking at Remus. "Originally for your birthday, but we realised we didn't know it, and it felt too obvious too ask, and we didn't want to wait if it ended up being in May or something, so we decided to come the first full moon when all of us managed it."

Remus simply stammered, slightly overwhelmed by the commitment to their friendship the teenagers were showing him when he'd only properly known them for barely three or four months. Harry knew that feeling, as he felt it himself every time the Weasleys (or anyone really) showed him any form of kindness or helped him at cost or risk of themselves. Part of him wouldn't want them to do this, as Harry felt he didn't deserve it, and they needed to take care of themselves with it, while part of him was elated people cared so much about him. Remus showed the exact same signs.

"Can you show us?" Peter asked, anxious to see what they all turned out to be like.

They all obliged and took the space they would need to change, as some of their forms would take up quite a bit of space. They went in order of how they'd managed to learn it, first to last.

Luna's form was the smallest, and she changed the easiest and fastest of them all. As they had predicted early on, her Animagus form was the same as her Patronus: a small, white hare that was just as small and quick on its feet as in the DA. It even already had dirty patches around her head to mimic her dirty-looking hair as a human. Luna immediately ran forward, until she was at the feet of the bed, before she stood on her hind legs and looked up at them all.

Ron and Neville, since they incidentally managed it at the same time, changed next. Ron took a bit longer than Luna, but changed into a small dog, a Jack Russell Terrier to be precise. It seemed Luna had set a trend, for Ron's fur was mostly pale white, except for a generous bit of russet that covered most of the head, except for the black snout. He immediately looked around himself uncertainly, checking to see if he'd missed changing anything, before immediately barking in excitement. Neville, meanwhile, took as long as Ron before managing to change into a wolf. He also inspected himself for patches he might have missed, but Harry was sure there weren't any. He patted the wolf reassuringly on the head, and Neville shot him a look of gratitude.

As her form was one of the largest, Ginny took the longest of them all in changing, nearly a full minute. But when she managed, a beautiful red-maned horse stood in her place. Unlike her brother, she didn't bother with the inspection, and instead strode forwards until she was at the edge of the bed like Luna, and let the others pet her. Except for Sirius, whom she bristled at, and when he still stepped closer, stepped on his toes with her hoof.

"OOOW!" He yelped, clutching his toe. "Be more careful, will yah?"

Ginny ignored him and looked away, as the warning had gotten through and Sirius stepped back. Harry snorted and changed himself, as he'd managed second-last. He likely could have managed faster, but he was so determined to help the others with their own transformation he would have forgotten about his own training had Hermione not reminded him about it. He was the first that broke the rule that a Patronus and Animagus always matched, for after forty-nine seconds of morphing he finally stood there in his Thestral form.

"So this is one of the things that a pulls the carriages?" Hermione asked. Harry simply nodded, and briefly widened his wings so he could look them over. He had to admit he looked pretty awesome like this, and wondered why he hadn't pressed the Sirius of his own time to teach him this sooner.

Hermione took a breath, and was the last one to change. But she changed second fastest, almost as fast as Luna. But unlike Luna she jumped in the air, and brought her knees to her chest. Then she herself changed, and changed into a bird. Like Harry, her Patronus and Animagus didn't match. So when the new Phoenix among them swooped around the room before landing next to an astonished Remus, Harry felt glad she had this form, it being more useful than an Otter. As far as he knew he and Hermione didn't share the magical properties of their respective creatures, as he was still visible to the Marauders as a Thestral, and he was quite sure at least his father and Peter hadn't seen death yet. And Hermione couldn't burst into flames and use Phoenix travel, or had a burning day, either.

Before any of them could comment in praise or wonder, though, Remus groaned and fell over.

"Don't change back," James immediately ordered, and soon in the places of the Marauders stood a Stag, a large black dog resembling a Grim, and a small grey Rat, which skirted off to join Luna.

Harry stepped back, giving Remus some space as he changed into a Werewolf. It was harrowing to watch, as Remus' body contorted in pain with the changes. His back arched as his skin slowly gave way to fur, and his body slowly transitioned from a human to a Werewolf. The look in Remus's eyes all but radiated pain, as the pupils changed from their natural brown to the lupine yellow.

The next moment, before Harry knew it, the wolf stood before them, as he had at the end of his third year when Sirius almost got Wormtail. The wolf eyed his usual pack members playfully, but stiffened upon realising that there were even more members in the room than usual. Warily, he slowly stalked up to Neville, who happened to be standing the closest to him. Padfoot and Prongs tensed, ready to intervene should Moony try anything, but the Werewolf merely sniffed at the normal wolf, who looked quite nervous but still stood tall, ready to defend himself should he need to.

To Harry's relief, Moony seemed to nod in approval, or at least calmly accepted Neville at any rate, and turned to inspect the others. And one by one Moony gave them all a nod or similar sign of approval, which Harry took as a sign Remus was still in there trying to influence the wolf. When arriving at Hermione's Phoenix form Harry could even swear he saw a smile cross the Werewolf's face.

Then he came at last to Harry, who immediately bent his legs, so he stood ready to either attack, defend, or play, depending on Moony's reaction. Moony sniffed for a moment, wary like he'd been with all of the others at the start. But like with Hermione and the others, Remus rubbed his head against Harry's leg in approval. Padfoot let out a bark of joy, and immediately jumped forth to play, distracting the Werewolf from whatever he might plan to do. After a moment, Neville joined in with Ron, and Luna and Peter ran around and between Moony's legs in their own forms, hyping the Werewolf up and distracting him even further. Harry, Ginny, and Prongs stood ready to interfere should things get rough, and Hermione watched from the top of a book cabinet.

And apparently that was something the wolf didn't like, for he jumped up to climb on the cabinet and tried to reach her. Hermione briefly flapped her wings in surprise and brief panic, before Harry saw a determination set in and she flew over him, briefly raking the Werewolf's neck with one of her claws. This agitated him even more, and Moony tried to chase her around. But Ginny decided it was her turn, and bumped into him at a slight trot, knocking the Werewolf over.

Recognising the room was starting to get too small for this kind of playing, Harry briefly walked out and downstairs, a bit wobbly on the stairs since he was still getting a bit used to the new form, and used one of his wings to press down and unlock the handle and open the door.

Prongs and Wormtail poked their heads out, trying to figure out where Harry was going. Harry simply gestured with his head to the open door, and outside. The two Marauders immediately nodded their heads in understanding, and Prongs headed back in while Wormtail ran down the stairs, climbed up Harry's legs, and nestled himself between the joints connecting the back and the wings.

A loud mass of thumps sounded from above, and Harry looked up. He immediately had to step aside, as a whole mess of Animagi, with Moony in the middle, stampeded their way to the door and ran outside. Luna briefly stopped to look at Harry and Peter, before flopping her ears in greeting and following the others. Harry rolled his eyes in amusement and made his own way out.

The herd outside was in a bit of a chaos. Ron was in a tug of war with the Werewolf over a stick he'd picked up moments earlier, and Padfoot and Luna were running around and causing general confusion among them. Everyone else simply stood guard in a ring around them, ready to jump in should they need it.

Ginny, on the other hand, was a bit restless. She was constantly stomping on the spot, pacing between two places multiple times, and looking from one place to another like she was about to be attacked. She needed to let off some steam of her own. Prongs thought the same thing, apparently, for he immediately pranced forwards and started to herd Moony around, trying to provoke him into a game of chase. It started to work, for Moony immediately began to run ahead. The others simply went with it: Ron, Neville, Padfoot, and Ginny ran after them, and Hermione swooped down to pick up Luna so she could keep up. Harry shrugged and checked if Peter was still safely tucked in on his back. Meeting the rat's gleaming enthusiastic eyes, Harry nodded and broke out into a run.

Feeling a bit daring, he spread his wings and tried to flap them in a way he'd seen the Thestrals do that night before the Ministry and in the books he'd studied on his form. He was surprised by how quickly he rose up in the air, and he felt Peter's hold on him tighten a bit as they rose above the nearby tree line and the rooftops of the nearby Hogsmeade village. He needed a few moments to adjust, and soon found himself steady in the air.

Harry let out a sound of joy, even though he didn't recognise it was his Animagus form rather than his usual yells. Man this felt _amazing_! This felt so much better than a broom! A broom was still restricted by its own response time and it needed to be held onto tightly. But to be in the air with nothing but his own wings to support him, limited only by what he himself could do? If he wasn't unregistered and didn't enjoy brooms so much as well he'd consider giving up on brooms altogether.

Grinning, he flattened his wings onto himself, being sure to cover Peter so he didn't fall off, he made a steep dive from high in the air until he was almost crashing into the ground. Then, at the last second, he spread his wings again and levelled out, barely skirting the ground with the tips of his front hoofs. He rose a bit so he wouldn't ram one of the others as he turned around and flew back, but he then kept around that altitude, occasionally swooping over the Werewolf to distract him once again.

It did look amazing from above. The large group of various animals running through the forest, Moony playfully trying to swipe at one of the others while the others ran with him as they herded him around the forest, away from Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. Hermione swooped over a few times as well, Luna no longer in her claws. After one flyover Harry had found her again, though, sitting safe and sound between Prongs' antlers. Harry took a brief look back to check if Peter was still sitting safely between his wings, and when he saw the rat was actually standing on his front legs, almost basking in the wind, Harry smiled in contentment as well.

Harry landed in a run and joined the others, coming up beside Ron and Padfoot, who were running ahead of Moony, Neville, and Prongs, and Ginny just to the side running alongside Hermione's flight path. Ron glared at him in jealousy of the ability to fly, but the playfulness in his eyes and the happy bark he gave when Harry finally settled beside them told Harry he either didn't mean it or got over it quite quickly.

They ran around like that for most of the night, mostly just running around and having fun in their animal forms while ensuring Moony didn't do anything stupid. It lasted well until the early morning, close enough that when they finally managed to return to the shack with Moony, dawn was only an hour away. They quickly got him back inside and on the bed, and watched when he slowly changed back.

It lasted for an agonising fifteen minutes, but finally the Werewolf that could have harmed or killed them during the night had finally returned to being the fifteen-year-old boy Harry knew so well. Padfoot changed back the quickest, and after Harry pointed them out near the hatch with his wing, immediately summoned the spare clothes for Remus that Harry had brought. Then, slowly, the others all changed back. James and Peter did so as well, and helped the others with tips that might help them turn back quicker. They didn't intervene themselves, though, stating an Animagus had to manage it under their own strength.

In the end, there were ten exhausted teenagers sitting or laying in the bedroom of the shack, as they all rested from the wild night they'd had. Harry actually briefly closed his eyes to catch a bit of rest. But rest wouldn't come as the others all kept moving around for their own bits of sleep they needed to catch up. When Harry briefly opened his eyes, he even caught Remus's hand uncharacteristically hanging outside the bed and resting on Hermione's hair as she lay on the floor beside the bed, and Sirius lay with the back of his head on-

Harry quickly turned his head and looked away. He definitely didn't need to see on which part of his father Sirius' head lay.

He felt a slight nudge beside him and Harry looked down. Peter was curled up against him, with a slight blanket covering most of him. Harry shifted uneasily, as he didn't exactly feel comfortable to have someone curled up against him like this. True, they were all fully clothed and most of them were still asleep, but this was rather… Too _intimate_ to Harry's liking.

"That was awesome," Peter mumbled. "The flying, I mean."

"Thanks," Harry said, a bit uncomfortable. While he'd learned to look past the sins the boy had yet to commit and be his friend, he had actually never had a moment where he and Peter were on their own entirely. There had always been Ron, Hermione, one of the Marauders, or someone else from their year with him. Knowing what the boy would do, it was simply too odd for Harry.

"I know, you have trouble seeing past the other me," Peter said, sitting up and fortunately no longer using Harry as a pillow. "The one Imperiused to betray the others and you. But still…thanks for… being there… As a friend," Peter stammered, before looking down and shaking his head. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

Harry nodded. "Yep. But that's alright. As you said, we're friends. And if there's one thing I do for my friends it's sticking by them no matter what. Even if it is… _difficult_ , for me to look past something."

"You will?" Peter asked hopefully.

"Marauder's promise," Harry swore. "I might not know you as long as they have, but I've seen you around them. You're a good friend. Loyal, supportive, good sense of humour… Peter, I can go on for hours if I'm to list all the things the Marauders value about the inclusion of you in their ranks. They see you as their best friend too. And James and Sirius aren't the type to abandon their friends in times of need. Even beyond Hogwarts, they'll be there for you."

Peter nodded, seeming more sure of himself the more Harry went on. Finally, he gave a huge, genuine smile at Harry. "Thanks."

"Any time," Harry answered with a smile of his own.

"Sun's coming up," Peter noted. "Madam Pomfrey will be here soon to pick up Remus. We'd better get going."

Harry nodded, and the boys got up. And Harry promptly had to cast a silencing charm on himself to cover his own laughter. At his hysteric movements Peter's eyebrows furrowed, and Harry pointed at the source of his amusement. And Peter had to fight to keep himself silent as well.

Hermione's hand had, in her sleep, moved up to grasp Remus', and they both actually smiled as they slept.

Finally trusting himself to keep silent enough not to wake the others, he turned to Peter. "They're adorable, aren't they?"

Peter nodded, a large smirk covering his own face. "Yeah. But they fit together really well. Studious, smart, accepting of others… It's like a match made in heaven for them."

Harry nodded, and both boys lapsed into a momentary silence. One that lasted for only five seconds. "You still brought the camera, right?" Harry asked. "We can't miss using this against them."

"It's like you said with the cloak and map," Peter smirked, retrieving a Wizarding camera from an enchanted pocket of his jacket. "You never know when an opportunity can come along."

Harry smirked, and silenced and covered the flash of the camera as it went off, so it wouldn't wake the others. They quickly hid their evidence of the moment, Peter ensuring the photo would be developed later, and quickly woke the others with a whisper, a shake of their shoulder, or in James and Sirius' case tickling their noses with enchanted feathers so it tickled twice as much. Harry smirked from the sidelines, as James and Sirius got up and chased Peter angrily, while the Marauder laughingly ran around and between them, often using his Animagus form to slip from their grasp in the nick of the moment.

Since Harry's brief conversation with Peter, he'd noted the boy seemed a lot more confident than usual in himself and his own abilities, as well as seemingmore sure of his faith and friendship with the others. Harry wondered if, with this conversation alone, he'd prevented the path Peter would follow later in his life from ever forming.

* * *

 _ **Great Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands**_

Ron let out the largest yawn of his life as he stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast at seven thirty. Man, the first full moon had been tiring. But it had been awesome as well, to manage to become an Animagus and run with a Werewolf. And he saw most of the others were just as tired yet exhilarated about it as he was.

He collapsed onto the nearest open space at the table he could find, and Harry and Hermione joined him. Neville and the Marauders moved further along to sit with Frank, while Ginny and Luna sat down near Lily, who immediately started asking them questions on where they'd been. Evidently their nightly escapade had been noticed.

"Well, that was fun, wasn't it?" Hermione asked of them. Ron nodded automatically, as he started loading food onto his plate. Harry did so as well, though he had at least enough energy to respond verbally.

"Yeah. It makes me wonder why we never tried it in third year, when we first learned of it," Harry answered, as he grabbed some fried eggs that were served on the table. Hermione slapped him on the arm.

"Harry!" She harshly whispered. "It's illegal to become one without ministry guidance. Not to mention you could get sent to Azkaban if you're not registered. Do you know how much trouble we could've gotten into?"

"We'd be in trouble with that lot anyway," Ron pointed out sourly. Despite the awesome summer and incredible year so far, the terrible year with the pink toad was still fresh in his memory. "I mean, with Umbridge making Harry use that blasted Quill as often as she did it's a wonder Harry didn't get more extensive scarring than he did. Not to mention all the privileges she took away without good reason."

"It's still wrong to do so though," Hermione persisted. "If we'd had a Werewolf as a classmate then, I wouldn't complain. But to do so for the sake of it…"

"And yet you still did it now," Ron pointed out with a frown. "You could've just sat back and let us get in trouble, or merely covered us by doing some of Remus' homework or giving us an alibi. Yet you still did learn it alongside us, and even joined us on the full moon. Why?"

"As I said," Hermione said, looking down and letting her bushy hair cover most of her face from view. "We now have a Werewolf friend our own age who needs help."

"Something tells me you both want to be more than friends," Harry said, his lips twitching into a smirk. Hermione looked at him scandalised and swatted his arm to shut him up, but Ron just stared at them.

 _Hermione and Remus?_ He had to admit they fit well together. They were both obsessed with books a lot, at Potter Manor as well as in Hogwarts the three weeks they'd been here. They also cared about most of the same things like Elves' rights (though Hermione was a _lot_ more passionate about it), had exactly the same subjects, and even had their own troublemakers to look after with exasperation.

In the past Ron knew he would've been jealous about it. Hell, he still felt the pang of it come up now that he focused on the prospect of them together. He'd had a crush on her in fourth year, as well as in most of his fifth year. He'd even ruined the Yule Ball for them that evening because of the fact she'd gone with Viktor Krum.

But after his father had nearly lost his life shortly before Christmas that year he'd sat down and started thinking. The fact he'd almost lost a member of his family had shook him awake, and made him evaluate what he really wanted in life. One of the things he seriously considered was what he wanted with Hermione. And after considering not only all they've gone through and what they've done, but also how they interacted with one another on a daily basis, he was forced to admit they wouldn't fit well together. Sure, as friends they worked out just fine, as long as Harry was there as a buffer for their more serious arguments. But for an actual relationship they argued way too much for it to work out. And if they did break off because of an argument, he'd also lose his friendship with her along with it. And that was something he didn't want.

Emotional range of a teaspoon? He thought this amount of thinking was worthy of a tablespoon, at least.

"Well, go for it," Ron told Hermione, shocking both of them. He decided to elaborate. "You both fit well together, you like the same stuff… I don't see why not."

"He has a point," Harry admitted after a few moments. "Besides, you even did an illegal thing for him. That has to count for something right?"

Ron looked at them, and Ron saw she was blushing quite a bit. She was saved from answering, however, when the head girl, Amelia Bones, sat down with them.

"Everything alright?" She asked them, her gaze resting on Harry a few instants longer than either Ron or Hermione. "You guys look awfully tired."

"Long night, Amelia," Harry answered. Ron rose his eyebrows in surprise, and he saw Hermione do so, too. They didn't know Harry and Bones were on first-name basis with one another. They only really did things together in the DA, though they did partner up together often. Ron wondered what else he'd missed.

"Yeah, OWL year can be quite draining, especially with homework," Bones knowingly answered. "Need any help?"

"Thanks, but we managed to finish it last night," Harry answered. "If I have trouble with a particular subject, though, I'll come to you."

To Ron's surprise, Bones smiled when she heard that. "Good. I'm good at most of my subjects, except for Transfiguration. I'm a real failure at that subject, Vanishing things especially."

"Need any help? It isn't my best subject, but I'm no slouch at it, and my brother's a prodigy at it so I picked up a number of tricks from him," Harry offered, surprising Ron once again. _When did Harry and Bones get so friendly together?_ Judging by the look of Hermione, she was also startled by how well they seemed to be getting on.

"I'd love that," Bones said. "You free on Saturday?"

"Quidditch practice for most of the morning, but I'm free in the afternoon," Harry answered. "Meet you in the library then?"

"Sure," Bones said. "I'll be there." She suddenly looked up, staring at someone at the Hufflepuff table behind Harry before returning to look at him. "Got to go. Amos is trying to draw my attention. See you at the next DA session?"

"Sure," Harry said. "See you on Friday, then?"

Bones nodded happily. "Bye."

Harry nodded, and Bones strode back towards the Hufflepuff table. As soon as she was out of earshot, Hermione leaned forward, and Ron moved a bit closer to listen in too.

"Harry, I didn't know you were friends with Madam Bones." She asked.

Harry snorted. "She's hardly old enough to be called 'Madam.' And we got to talking during the DA. She's nice."

"Uh-huh," Ron answered skeptically. "And there's nothing else going on there?"

To his slight satisfaction, Harry blushed. "I'll let you know when I've figured that out myself."

Now Hermione frowned. "Why? From the looks of it you two get on well together."

"Yes, but all of that is mostly banter and chatter during the DA, and now homework together as well," Harry said. "I don't know if we'd fit that well together if we became more serious."

"Only one way to find out. For both of you," Ron added when Hermione started to smirk too much. "Ask Bones and Remus for dates to Hogsmeade."

Harry visibly paled until he almost looked like a vampire, and Hermione blushed so much she could've sat next to the other Weasleys and not stand out. But Ron smiled when they didn't dismiss it out of hand. They were clearly interested in their respective new friends. But still, from the looks of it neither actually planned on asking. When both of them still refused to answer, Ron let out a loud sigh.

"Tell you what, if one of you ends up in a date to Hogsmeade, either because you're asked or you asked it yourself, the other must ask their date as well. Deal?"

Hermione nodded, and Harry let out a sigh as well. "Deal," They both said, shaking hands.

Ron nodded, glad that was sorted. Now he could finally eat in peace. He totally missed the glare Lily sent Bones, or thesomber look Ginny wore since Bones had talked with Harry as happily as she did.

* * *

 _ **Library Wing, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands**_

She sighed in contentment, reading up on another work for her Arithmancy project that she shared with Remus. That was always a constant comfort for Hermione. Whenever she wanted peace and quiet, one could simply go to the library and work there. She was hesitant to say study, considering what she saw some of her year mates do at the moment. Luna was working at another table on another work of art of some ludicrous creature no one had ever heard of, and Vinnie was surrounded by Chemistry and Potions books. And considering the large amount of _accidents_ he had had the month since she arrived, she doubted he was working on an extra credit potions project.

Then again, there were those that appreciated the library for what it had been intended: Lily, Mary, and Remus were working with her on Arithmancy, despite the fact the project had been assigned to pairs, and at the table behind them Harry was intensely reading a thick old tome Hermione hadn't seen before.

"Oh, for bloody Merlin's sake just ask him, Lily," Mary finally sighed in exasperation as she put the assigned text down. Hermione looked up in surprise, as did Remus.

"Ask who what?" Lily asked, trying to look innocent. But Hermione saw the telltale hints of a blush creeping up her cheeks.

"Don't play dumb with me, Lily," Mary warned with a predatory smile. "You've snuck glances at Harry more often than I can count this last hour alone, last weekend was the first time you actually attended tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, even if you didn't play, and you've suddenly become a lot more tolerant of James since he got here. Not to mention you freeze up whenever Harry accidentally touched you or brushed your skin. Admit it: You're in _luuvvvv_."

"I am _not_!" Lily vehemently denied, starting an argument with her friend. Hermione took that argument as a moment to analyse those signs. Now that Mary had pointed them out, Lily had indeed been staring at Harry quite often the last two weeks since their arrival. As a matter of fact, the way she sat now offered Lily the perfect view of Harry as he read while she could hide herself behind her own work should he glance their way. And it had indeed been odd that Lily had shown up for the tryouts, when Marlene and Audrey had mentioned quite often in the dorm that Lily despised Quidditch (or more precisely, had come to despise it because of James Potter and how popular he was because of it).

And Lily had smiled very brightly and made a beeline for him when Harry had made the team alongside Ginny, completely ignoring the fact James and Marlene as the other Chasers, Sirius and Oliver Wood's future uncle Atticus as Beaters, and Frank as a Keeper.

"Oh, God. You really are smitten with him," Hermione realised.

"For the last bloody time, I am not in love with Harry," Lily angrily denied, and Hermione belatedly realised she'd said that out loud. Remus leaned back in his chair, just as shocked as Hermione herself was.

"Denial," Mary said immediately. "Clue number one: you are blushing," Mary grinned as Lily's mouth opened in shock. "Clue number two: you promised you'd come to watch his Quidditch matches, despite the fact you never show up when Marlene comes to play, or when James invites you. Clue number three: you fuss just as much about him as about James, despite the fact they're complete opposites personality wise."

"Not to mention you seemed awfully disappointed when Harry wasn't in our group for the remedial potions lessons," Hermione pointed out. As awkward as it was to admit, Harry's mother was having a crush on him. _Oh, how would she explain this?_

She glanced at Remus for help, but he just shrugged, as clueless as she was about how to go about this. Harry wasn't insane enough to go and have a fling with his own mother, which Hermione knew would break the latter's heart. Yet the only way Hermione saw Lily backing off without her heart being broken was by telling her the full truth why they couldn't be together, time travel and all. And that was a whole mess of its own to explain. _Hello, I'm your future son accidentally brought back to the past because Voldemort thought it a good idea to lure me in a trap with false visions_. Yeah, that would go well. Especially if their deal came through and he went on a date with Amelia Bones.

A black figure strode past with billowing robes, and Hermione allowed herself to be distracted enough to look back. Snape was walking towards Harry, briefly joining him at the table. Harry immediately closed the tome and reached into his bag before handing Snape three rolls of parchment. The Potions homework Snape had assigned, Hermione presumed, as Snape started to read it through intently. Ever since they'd started to catch up in _proper_ Potions education, they'd been assigned homework essays in the place of Professor Slughorn's to make, which Snape or Lily would correct and send through to Slughorn as a status report. He frowned at certain places, and corrected with his own quill as Harry nervously watched on. To Hermione's surprise Snape nodded and said something too soft for Hermione to hear. Whatever was said made Harry smile and they talked for a few more minutes, before Snape rose again and departed.

He paused halfway between the two tables, and looked back at Harry. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're much more tolerable than your brother, Potter. In fact, this might redeem the bad image I've always had of your family,"

"Can't have that, can we," Hermione heard Harry cheekily return. "My brother might get the wrong ideas. He might think you'd even come to family dinners!"

"You know, I just might, if only so I could see him suffer a heart attack," Snape smirked. "Good day… _Harrison_ ," With those departing words Snape turned again and left, his robes billowing as much as they did in Hermione's time.

"Alright, I admit he's attractive," Lily murmured, having observed the exchange as well. "He's smart, quite powerful, much more of a gentleman than his brother, and kind of sweet. Not to mention he's much more modest and likeable. But I'm not in love with him!"

"Keep telling yourself that, sweetie," Mary returned, her smile growing at the admission. "One day, you might-"

 _Oh god, Mary is worse than Lavender Brown. Who cares about a love-live? True, Harry's is slightly more important to me than others, but we're here to study!_

Yet, the girl chattered and argued on about how and why Lily was in love with Harry (the latter girl still denying it) and that Lily should just ask him out for a Hogsmeade weekend. Hermione sighed. With this much background noise there was no way she could properly study. Sending an apologetic smile at Remus, she gathered her things and got up to sit with Harry.

Whatever he was reading had to be interesting, for he didn't even look up as she sat down and started in her part of the Arithmancy project. Nor did he after ten more minutes of working. Wondering how long she could go on until he noticed she was there she continued to work silently.

It took another fifteen minutes before he noticed her. And when he did she had to stifle a laugh. He shot up from his chair, nearly upending it as he was startled from his work. "Bloody hell! Don't sneak up on people."

"Language," Hermione corrected automatically. "And I've been sitting here for almost half an hour. What are you studying?"

Harry frowned, contemplating something for a moment, before nodding. "Place your index finger here," He pointed to a circle on the front page of the book. Hermione nodded, and hissed as it stung her somehow and took a drop of her blood. Harry then turned he book around, and Hermione began to read.

 _Dear reader, I present you with a great problem many magical communities face these days: So many Wizards and Witches take magic for granted. It is so often displayed and brandished by Magical folk, for many it becomes a normality. We become used to magic. But I still wondered, as did Antioch and Cadmus. We wondered how magic worked, what we were doing when we cast spells. Where does magic come from? What happens when we cast a spell? What does a spell, or magic, even consist of? And can that substance be manipulated or controlled in other ways?_

 _My brothers and I found out some of those answers, and we have written them down in this book: our life's work; our journal. My granddaughter will also continue this research, and she will add her own notes where she pleases: either to complement my work, or contradict it when new facts present themselves and prove my work false. Our work on the Hallows is based on this research. While you, dear reader, will have to read the entire tome in order to truly understand what is about to be explained, I can promise you this._

 _Should you understand and master even a handful of the concepts described in this book, you could end up becoming one of the most powerful wizards in the world. Even the master of our Hallows would not be your match. But beware: the power this can bring could become your own downfall should you attempt too much too soon. And power like this is to be used responsibly._

 _Note of Iolanthe: my grandfather is not exaggerating. Knowledge like this is very dangerous, and should never fall into the wrong hands. I will continue his research as I swore on his deathbed, but as soon as I die, I will have Hardwin hide this in Hogwarts' Room of Requirement. By their arrogant nature, Dark Lords will not find it there: I will ensure it can only be retrieved from the room if someone wants a trump card to defeat a Dark Lord, and I will place charms on the book so only those of Peverell blood, as well as those bearing their mark of approval, can read the contents._

 _I know that if you are reading this you will be considered worthy enough by the book to receive this knowledge. For that, I will grand you a brief summary only a Ravenclaw could divine from my grandfather and great uncles' ramblings: Every spell, charm, curse, ward, and hex consists of a basic form of magical energy. It is generated in each wizard in their magical core by biological means beyond my family's understanding._

 _Such energy can be controlled, as most wizards do, through spell work and wand-waving. But true masters, masters like the Brothers that defied Death, can bend it to their very will. They become 'Spell-Benders', if you will. They could tame Fiendfyre with a wave of their hand, alter the course of Avada Kedavra, stop Cruciatus in mid-air, or even change Imperius into a harmless Lumos. Magic itself would be tamed by them, harnessed into doing the caster's bidding. There are a number of ways to achieve this mastery, each more difficult and dangerous than the last, and lethal if you aren't powerful in your own right. But if you can master even one such way, you would become an expert on magic itself, and a force to be reckoned with for any foe._

 _But heed my grandfather's words: try to master too much too soon, and you will suffer. For dealing with raw magical energy in such a way tempts Death itself. And Death does not take such temptations lightly. Great Uncle Antioch's death was proof of that._

Hermione read on as studiously as Harry had only moments ago. Both Ignotus and Iolanthe went on to describe their theory that magic consisted of a form of raw energy, that spells were merely 'preprogrammed' forms of control, and very limited ones at that, and that those with absolute control of their magic and indomitable wills could bend it beyond a control not even spells could match. Hermione made a quick look through the various pages, and wasn't surprised to find dozens upon dozens of pages of Arithmantic formulas and graphs depicting how much magic was used to control this raw energy. She looked up in wonder. "How did you get this?"

"In the Room, shortly after the first DA session," Harry answered, sounding a bit excited. "You see the potential in this as well, right? What advantage we could have with this?"

Hermione had to admit, at first glance she could see why Harry thought this was a very good thing. With the kind of advantage the book hinted at, it would be less of a task to overcome the superior experience and vast knowledge Voldemort had over Harry. Most spells the bastard sent at Harry could simply be swept aside or turned back against him. It helped even the odds.

But Hermione had also had a good look at the Arithmantic calculations described in the book. And the Peverell brothers and Iolanthe were far better than the average Arithmancers. As good as Hermione was in the subject, three quarters of the stuff she saw went way over her head, using formulas hidden within formulas in obscure languages she'd never seen before. She hated to say it, but it would certainly be way too difficult for Harry to learn within even twenty years, much less in the three she expected it would take him at most to run into Voldemort. His track record since coming to Hogwarts wasn't that good in that regard.

"Harry, I admit this looks good," she hesitantly said, "and if you did manage it would certainly give you a good advantage. But…"

"But what?" Harry asked, sounding quite concerned.

"But look at this," Hermione finally decided to explain her point by giving an example. She picked a particularly large formula in the book and pointed it out to him. "Do you understand this?"

"No," Harry admitted after a particularly large pause. "I'm still only halfway through the book,"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione skipped back until she was nearly at the beginning, and pointed at the large graphic chart depicted below another long formula. "How about this one?"

Harry frowned as he inspected it, squinting his eyes for a moment as he mulled it over. "It says at the top of the page it relays how much power one must use for redirecting a spell, but…" Harry trailed off, and Hermione saw in his eyes the problem with his idea was starting to dawn on him.

"It's a good idea to master this, Harry," she consoled. "But it'll take decades to even begin unraveling the various formulas depicted in the book, much less practising it in general. You'd be Dumbledore's age by the time you truly mastered it, and that's not something you have the time for."

"I suppose not," Harry sadly admitted, before his eyes briefly lit up again. "But doesn't this describe another method? The table of contents in the beginning said it was one of the few methods to learn it not including the heavy use of Arithmancy." He took the book from her, scrolled ahead until he was again somewhere else in the middle of the book. Hermione took it from him and read the chapter.

 _Entry 69: Willpower. (_ _For the stubborn ones)_

 _Following the laws of nature, we learn that every action has an equal and opposite reaction. (_ _Hardwin described it as Karma, something I agree with.)_ _So too does this go with Spell-Bending. Every curse or piece of magic you manipulate will take up an equal amount of energy from your own magical core._ _(regardless of whether this is done_ _wandlessly or traditionally)_

 _Most of the methods my brothers and I devised earlier make heavy use of often obscure Arithmantic equations and arcane wand waving to do this, and examples are given as to how this was accomplished. For example; the_ _(Tune out this bit, unless you wish to waste a few hours. It mostly describes a number of self-invented spells so absurd and difficult no one else can possibly replicate them, that they used to enchant the Stone, made the Cloak everlasting, and infused Great Uncle Antioch's wand with so much power.)_

 _But there is another way to Spell-Bend. It requires great Magical Power to even contemplate doing this_ _(I later learned one has to be at least Powerful, according to the Wizarding Power Level Measuring System)_ _*, not to mention in possession of an indomitable will, and no small amount of proficiency at Wandless and Non-Verbal magic, as there are no known incantations or absolute wand movements one can follow._ _(I discovered Occlumency will be a great aid in this, too.)_ _But it can be done by sufficiently powerful wizards._

 _In spell casting in general it often comes down to five parts: Incantation, Wand Motion, Magical Power, Focus, and Intent. This method will use the last three predominantly, Intent most of all. Though all of us have yet to properly control it, or in Antioch's case even do it intentionally, it is theoretically possible for someone quite literally to WILL the spells to do as the caster wishes. It requires a great amount of focus and concentration to control the magical energy without Circe's Arithmancy laws, or a wand to guide and focus the magic. (_ _The Occlumency comes in here, as it helps you to multitask. Not only will it help you focus on the task, but it will aid you to divert you attention to other matters, so if caught doing this in a battle you will be able to dodge an attack and focus on Spell-Bending at the same time)_ _Hence, why it is recommended to at least stretch your hand in the general direction of the magic you want to bend, acting as an improvised focus instead of a wand, though Cadmus and I can toss balls of magic to one another without moving our arms doing it. (_ _When great uncle Antioch tried that he learned the hard way my grandfather and great uncle liked him in the colour pink.)_

 _Although possible, it is not advised to do this in battle often, for the amount of focus it requires would leave one so exposed it is practically suicide unless in one-on-one duels with a severely weakened opponent. I doubt even masters at this, something my brothers and I most certainly are not, could think of doing this in a battle unless as an instinctive reaction to divert a Killing Curse away from themselves. The amount of focus it requires, actually, would make the skill almost worthless in a battle._

 _(That being said, it is not impossible if one puts their mind to it. Hardwin, my aunt-in-law Anastasia, and I have learned to master it this way with help from my grandfather's notes. It indeed very difficult to master, to the point one almost has to relearn their entire magical education all over in order to convert energy from the makeup of one spell to another, for each spell in existence. Not to mention, if one is not used to Spell-Bending in such a way, it can often tire one out after only one spell. But once one has mastered it this way, it is possibly the easiest way to do it. Most others require a wand to at least guide the magic and allow it to flow more easily. But this form of spell-bending allows one to do it wandlessly with merely a thought. True, it still requires the same amount of energy to cast a spell wandlessly as to bend it, and twice as much if one changes a spell in the middle of being cast at someone. But it doesn't require hours of mathematical calculations beforehand or ridiculous wand waving that doesn't make sense to most people. It is the hardest to learn of all, but once mastered the easiest to use.)_

Hermione had to admit, this method would be ideally suited for Harry, and she saw the instructions outlined by Iolanthe and Ignotus after the introduction wouldn't be all that different from hers and Harry's initial Occlumency training under Lady Dorea Potter. She looked back at the register for other methods of Spell-Bending, but the few other methods attributed to it, which were few and far between (as the Book (though Hermione thought it was more in the style of a journal) was dedicated to the entire theory of magical energy, not just spell-bending), all involved professional level Arithmancy in one form or another, and always way too far above Harry's abilities at the subject. In fact the only downside she saw to Harry doing this was that he needed someone on hand while he practiced so they could ensure he didn't magically exhaust himself.

"I admit it does have merit," she conceded, to Harry's obvious joy. "But you shouldn't practice this alone, Harry. We all know the dangers of magical exhaustion, and if you're caught magically exhausted on your own…." She didn't finish that. She'd learned the hard way that Slytherins were way more violent in this time, and much more sneaky about the way they hexed others.

"I won't." Harry said. "I intend to let at least Neville learn this as well, as he's the only other one of us six magically powerful enough to master this. And the rest of you and the Marauders can come and watch, to make sure the two of us don't overexert ourselves."

Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Harry was thinking this through for once, and wasn't rushing off to do something… something…

Something _Ron_ would do.

"Hermione?" a voice asked, and she and Harry turned around. Remus walked over from his original seat to their table, coming to a stop at between her and Harry at the side of the table. His cheeks were quite red, and he looked nervous.

"Yes?" Hermione queried, trying to appear as friendly as possible.

"I have a question," he started. "You see, the first Hogsmeade weekend is in three weeks… and, you know, I was wondering…" Remus trailed off, his cheeks going so red he almost matched Ron's hair.

"Wondering what, Remus?" Hermione asked, not sure where he was going with this.

"WillyougotoHogsmeadewithme?" he mumbled. Harry's eyes grew wide, and Hermione's mouth opened and closed multiple times as she processed what he just asked _. Did he really?_

"Come again?" Hermione asked, still in shock.

Remus' blush grew to new intensity as it now covered his entire face and most of his neck and ears, but he spoke up. "I asked you if you wanted to go to Hogsmeade with me."

Hermione actually slouched in her chair in shock, her brain for the first time not there as she tried to work out what she'd just heard. Ever since she'd been allowed to go to the village no one had asked her out for Hogsmeade before. Most dismissed her as a mere bookworm who tried to impress every teacher she encountered, or didn't dare approach her because she was always in Ron and Harry's company. This was a first for her. The first time someone actually wanted to go out with her.

Before either she or Remus could do anything, Harry recovered and started writing on one of his loose pieces of Parchment lying around. He then enlarged it so it was three quarters as wide as his shoulders.

 _ **SAY YES OR I'LL SET SIRIUS ON YOU!**_

That was enough to jolt her out of her shock, and Hermione sent him a glare. He missed it, innocently looking back in the Peverell book as Remus stared at her expectantly. Hermione turned to her new friend, and gave a genuine smile.

"Of course, Remus. I'd love to."

Remus gave a huge sigh of relief, and Lily and Mary did a brief jig and cheer respectively. Even Luna gave a smile from where she sat with her drawings.

"Congratulations." Harry said, who was suddenly staring at a point between her and Remus. "Now you can happily enjoy the village _in private_."

Before either of them could guess what Harry meant by that, Harry performed an Accio, pointing his wand at the point between them he'd been staring at. The next she knew, a piece of silvery fabric appeared from nowhere and flew into Harry's hand, which he instantly hid underneath his sweater in a swift, clearly well-practised movement.

And standing where they'd been hidden by an Invisibility cloak moments ago were James and Sirius, with Peter in his Animagus form on Sirius' shoulder. Each of them looked like a stag caught in the headlights.

The three of them stared openmouthed at the Marauders, who each smiled sheepishly.

"Oh." Sirius said.

"Potter!" Lily snarled as she got up. Both James and Harry turned to look.

"Yes?" They both asked, both sounding a bit apprehensive.

"Not you, Harry." Lily dismissed, raising her wand at James. "Do you remember what happened the last time you invaded the privacy of one of my friends like that?"

"Vividly," James said, sounding genuinely terrified as he put his hands between his legs and covered his private parts. Peter took the apparent cue and climbed down Sirius' shoulder, rushing down to disappear in the stack next to them to hide between the books.

"And yet you're doing it again," she growled, taking a step closer. Hermione got up as well and raised her own wand. Sirius had been a nuisance the last few weeks when he'd badgered her about her studying habits. He deserved a good hexing, and Lily was handing her the perfect excuse on a silver platter. She'd tried not to the entire time, but sneaking up on them and spying as she was asked out by Remus, their friend? That crossed the line with her.

"Now look, Lily-" Sirius started, but Hermione didn't even give him a chance: she sent the fastest Stinging hex she'd ever managed in her life at him. Her aim was slightly off, though in this case it was for the better: she'd aimed for his chest and head.

She'd hit him in his genitals. His eyes immediately went wide, and he reached down beneath his legs as he slowly crumbled to the ground.

Lily matched her action precisely, though James had at least the sensibilities to dodge. The others nearby, Remus and Harry included, were too busy smirking or laughing to help either the girls or the boys.

The fun ended when Madam Pince swooped down on them, emerging from between a pair of stacks where no one had seen her.

"Duelling in the library?!" she asked, sounding outraged. "Don't you know that is forbidden?!"

"It is," Harry cheekily returned. "But this wasn't a duel. For that, the opponent has to curse back."

Hermione covered her mouth in shock at Harry's cheek, _the nerve of him_! Remus, James, and even Lily had smirks on their face at Harry's answer, however, and Sirius was too indisposed because of his pain.

Madam Pince was not amused. "Out!" she said, raising her voice angrily as she pointing at the entire gathering, even including Luna and Vinnie, who were sitting quite distantly. "I'm ashamed of all of you! Duelling in the Library, and none of you stopped it. And a Prefect participating, no less!"

"Ssssh." James whispered. "We can't raise our voices in the library."

" _ **OUT!**_ " she all but roared, and they all wasted no time in packing up their belongings and hurrying out of the library, James scooping up Peter's rat form with one hand, as his other arm supported a limping Sirius as he still recovered from that hex. Harry smirked at Hermione and Lily on his right as they got out.

"Well, she's pissed," he stage-whispered. "Reckon it's her time of the month?"

Hermione rolled her eyes upwards in exasperation, missing the happy look Remus wore as he passed her with the remaining Marauders in tow. Wondering not for the first time how she managed to put up with Ron and Harry, she turned to Lily. "See what I have had to put up with all these years?" Hermione asked.

"And you see what toe-rag I had to put up with for four years." Lily sighed, gesturing at James further down the hallway. "It's a miracle we lasted this long."

"Now I'm hurt." Harry mock-pouted. "Truly, a strike across my heart!"

Hermione swatted him across the back of thehead, and vowed that, despite the fact they were his father and friends, he would spend much less time around the last month he was becoming far too much like them. She briefly contemplated reminding him of theirdeal, but thought better of it. Not right now, when Lily was walking right next to them. She liked the girl too much to break her heart herself.

* * *

 _ **Quidditch Pitch, Hogwarts Grounds, Scottish Highlands.**_

Harry smiled as he strode onto the pitch. It was the first Quidditch match of the season — predictably, against Slytherin so the finals wouldn't be as violent. And he had to say, he'd missed it. True, at Potter Manor he got to play a few pick-up games with the others, but nothing beat two full teams playing on an actual pitch. Ginny and James smiled as they walked behind him, and Frank waved at the crowd as they entered the field.

Harry quickly spotted where most of the others sat, though it wasn't a challenge: Luna had the quaint qualification of creating quality hats. Her distinctive Lion hat was easily spotted in the crowd, and everyone at Hogwarts he was friends with was sitting close by, except for Remus who would be commentating for the matches.

" **And now, entering the field: The Gryffindor Quidditch Team!** " the Werewolf called out. " **Led by the incredibly skilled keeper Frank Longbottom! Followed by the Chasers: the lovely Marlene McKinnon,** " said girl in front of Harry blushed but still raised her hand in salute of the crowd. " **The obnoxious James Potter,** " everyone (except James, who looked indignant) laughed loudly at this. " **And the new blood, who's also quite the looker I might add.** "

" **Lupin!** " Professor McGonagall called out, making Harry chuckle. Oh, how this reminded Harry of his matches with Lee Jordan commentating…

" **I'm not lying, am I professor? Anyway, let me introduce Ginny Beckett!** " Remus resumed, to great applause. " **And our beaters, whom I shall not praise for fear of their egos growing too big-** "

" **Lupin!** " Harry's head of house called again, to the extreme laughter of everyone present, including said beaters.

" **The Beaters Atticus Wood and Sirius Black!** " Remus called out as if the professor next to him hadn't interrupted, resulting in many cheers, most of which sounded suspiciously feminine. " **And last but I can speak from experience certainly not least, the new Seeker Harryyyyy Potter!** " The last one wasn't met by as many cheers as most of the players, but that was to be expected. Most of them hadn't seen Harry play yet, and the few that had come to the Seeker tryouts to watch hadn't been allowed to speak a lot about Harry. For once the rumour mill had actually acted in his favour and kept quiet about his skills (no doubt threatened so by the Marauders). Harry knew that would change after this match, though.

" **And now, entering the field: The Slytherin Team!** " Lupin called out, and across the pitch Harry could see seven green and silver clad players stride towards them, heads held high in haughty, proud sneers. " **Introducing the Chasers, team Captain Graham Mulciber and his teammates Cyrus Greengrass and Blake Avery. Following them are the Beaters Norbert Jugson** " Harry snorted, reminded of Hagrid's pet dragon in first year by both the name and ugly looks of the Slytherin fourth year. " **And Stephen Davis. Then come the Keeper Roxanne Sterling, and Seeker Regulus Black.** "

Harry looked the team over in surprise **.** Back in his time, as least as far as Harry could remember, no girl had played in the Slytherin Quidditch Team. In that regard house Slytherin was still quite sexist, even at the time Harry was _supposed_ to attend Hogwarts. For them to allow Roxanne to play, she must be an exceptional keeper. And Regulus was indeed among them, and quickly spotted. Harry had to admit, he looked quite like Sirius, only he'd tied his hair back, his facial features had a slight aristocratic edge to them that Sirius lacked, and his eyes were dark brown instead of grey.

Madam Hooch, looking quite a bit younger than when Harry had last seen her, strode up to the teams as they came to a stop in front of one another, the box with the bludgers, quaffle, and Snitch in her hand.

"Captains, shake hands," she ordered, and Frank walked up and shook the hand of the smaller Mulciber. Afterward, both captains walked back to their teams. At Madam Hooch's signal, both teams mounted their brooms. Harry's Thunderbird broom, easily the best broom on the pitch right now, felt comfortable and familiar, though that was probably because the future Firebolt would be modelled after this one. And while the Thunderbird wasn't nearly as fast, it was still the fastest out there at the moment − and twice as manoeuvrable as the Firebolt, too. Harry would be able to turn around and reverse his momentum in the blink of an eye with this broom, something his Firebolt had trouble accomplishing.

Madam Hooch then put the box with the balls on the ground, and kicked it, catching the quaffle as it flew up in the air while the bludgers and Snitch zoomed across the field, the latter out of sight. Next, Madam Hooch blew her whistle, and all players took off in the air and moved to their positions, while the quaffle was then tossed high into the air by Hooch.

Unfortunately, Mulciber caught it, and he, Greengrass, and Avery immediately sped towards the Gryffindor goal posts. Harry and the Chasers immediately sped to intercept, even as Harry kept an eye open for the Snitch. Unlike Oliver Wood, who had Harry high and dry in the air and completely focused on the Snitch, Frank had a different strategy in mind for the seeker. He wanted Harry involved as a fourth Chaser, multi-tasking between keeping an eye out for the Snitch and immediately chasing it if spotted, and helping Gryffindor get up in the lead against Slytherin.

And Harry had to admit it helped so far, not the least of which because the Slytherins had adopted the same tactic. Mulciber tossed the quaffle to Regulus, who caught it and tried to toss it into the goal post from afar. It was saved, in an admittedly impressive manner, by Sirius, who sent a Bludger directly at it. It worked, and the quaffle ultimately went wide, where James caught it. The Gryffindor didn't stop, but instead used his momentum to fly along the stands, giving his trademark smirks at the occasional person in the stands. Harry himself also sped towards the goal posts across the middle of the field, ready to catch it should James try and pass it to him. Beneath him he saw Marlene do likewise, so James had multiple options should he be blocked.

It worked, as halfway there James suddenly threw it in Harry's direction, and he caught it with his fingertips, straining them in the process by the force of the catch. He made for the goals, where Roxanne was waiting. He raised his arm, made the motion to apparently throw for the farthest hoop… And dropping it into Marlene's hands at the last second as Roxanne sped that way. The chaser who had shadowed him immediately threw it in the middle hoop and scored ten points.

Unfortunately, the Slytherins immediately went on the offensive: Jugson and Davis had gained control of both bludgers, and Regulus of the Quaffle, and the former two were seemingly playing tennis with the bludgers, Regulus following at a short yet safe distance behind them. None of the Gryffindors dared try and steal it, as the bludgers were far too close, and could easily be sent to anyone at the last second. Harry saw why the two Slytherins were so bulky, if that was their preferred tactic.

But Harry wouldn't be Harry if he didn't do something risky. He sped towards the bludgers, trusting his new broom to help manoeuvre between them. He made a slight jump over the first, ducked underneath the second, was forced to swing his legs up as the first was batted back at him, and came close to Regulus. He tried to pry it out of his hands… And cursed as he failed and Regulus sped past. None of the Chasers and Beaters were close enough yet to help, and Frank was distracted as the remaining Bludger was batted towards him, so Regulus, with a skilled feint, made an easy goal.

It went like that for most of the game, James, Ginny, Marlene, and Harry (and surprisingly Sirius, through his technique of batting the Bludger at a Quaffle in mid-air and blocking that way) working together superbly to score against Slytherin, while the storm-waltz, as Sirius had called it during a timeout when Ginny had been hit by a Bludger and needed her ankle numbed, ensured Slytherin also scored points. Before too long, though, Gryffindor was in the lead by 90-50.

Harry was just heading for the quaffle, which Regulus had in hand as he tried to score once again, when light reflected onto his glasses. He risked a look, and saw it: the Snitch, hovering just over the professors' stand on the other side of the field. Harry sped towards it, hoping to catch it before Regulus could. Harry had to admit the Blacks had skill, for Regulus saw Harry speed away immediately, and skilfully passed the Quaffle to Cyrus before following, hot on Harry's heels. Seeming to sense it had been spotted, the Snitch sped off, up into the air, and Harry turned to follow, closing in inch by inch. Regulus, though, didn't let up, and actually gained a few inches, until they were flying side by side. Each gave the other a determined, yet non-hostile glance, before both of them reached out, as they were both almost close enough to grasp it.

The Snitch shot downwards again before either of them could grab it, heading for the stands. Harry immediately and sharply turned around and headed down, while Regulus, who only flew a Cleansweep, was forced to make a wide arc around in order to maintain his momentum. Harry followed it closely, even as it dove into the structural supports underneath the higher stands. Regulus was forced to pull up as he came upon them, being too big and his broom too hard to manoeuvre to catch it there. He still kept pace just outside, though, hoping to catch it if it shot out of there.

It didn't, though, and Harry kept following it. He ducked underneath one support beam, skidded around a column, hot on the trail of the Snitch as it seemed go around the circumference of the pitch. Then, though, came the bigger problem. It headed for the support of the professors' stand, specifically for the area between two narrow support columns that Harry himself was too wide to fly through while riding a broom. Harry looked around and ahead, trying to see where the Snitch would go if it went there. He gulped: most of that was blocked off, and the only other way out was back into the open through a gap in the cloth hiding those supports… Right into Regulus's hands. Harry had no choice: either crash into the supports and hope he could catch it before it dove in there and headed right back into the open as he did, or let Regulus catch it and let Slytherin win the match. And considering Gryffindor was on a three year winning streak it would be humiliating if they lost the match now.

Harry got an idea, something he'd seen tourists do before in tropical regions. It was risky, and if he failed he would crash spectacularly. Not to mention he would break at least a dozen bones and risk his very life. The only pay-off was that he might win the match.

Naturally, he did it: sneaking his wand into his hand as he sped towards the Snitch, which was almost at the columns, he put two sticking charms on the soles of his boots before putting it away again. Then, he moved so he stood on top of the broom, one foot in front of the other as if he were in Hawaii, and let go of the broom with his hands. Putting one arm and hip before the other and hoping he was now thin enough, he sped after the Snitch as it zipped between the columns.

His fingertips grazed the side of the column, but he managed to squeeze through. He reached out with his front-most hand, he tried to grasp the Snitch. He missed, and it headed out, Harry speeding after it. It shot out in the open, and Harry followed suit… Dodging around Regulus, who was so shocked by Harry's sudden appearance he missed the Snitch. Like using a skateboard he rolled around Regulus, who upon missing the Snitch and being outmanoeuvred suddenly was wide and away from the Snitch, speeding away from it. Harry sped towards it, leaning forwards while using his feet to steer the broom.

He leaned forward a bit more... and smiled as his fingers clasped around the Snitch.

" **And Potter has caught the Snitch!** " Lupin cried out, making nearly the entire pitch cheer for Harry. " **Harry has caught the Snitch! I don't know if he was taught on the Continent or in Hawaii, as that is definitely the trademark of a surfer, but Harry has actually caught the Snitch!** "

Harry smirked, the sticking charms fading away as he slowly steered to the ground, where most of the people were heading for him to congratulate him for his win. All the rest were bested, however, by the Gryffindor team members, who all landed beside him. He was immediately caught into a hug by James.

"Bloody hell, don't scare me like that again!" he laughed, before looking down. Harry did so too, and laughed. While it was now touching the ground, he still stood on the broom. Harry smirked, and actually let the broom rise a bit so people could see he was still doing it this way.

"And here I thought James was exaggerating when he recommended you!" came the heavy yet happy voice of Atticus. "Damn, that is impressive."

Harry smirked as he looked at his brother. "It's all in the Potter genes," Harry answered, and James and Ginny, who had also managed to land, laughed out loud.

The others were stopped from answering by the arriving crowd, and Harry moved his broom so he could get closer, before finally jumping off and grabbing it with his right hand, his left still holding the Snitch. He was immediately beset upon by Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Peter, with Audrey, Luna, Lily, Sweet, Moliere, and Vinnie close behind them. Mary was a bit further back, talking to one of the Ravenclaws she was talking with at breakfast.

Hermione wasted no time in berating him, even punching him in the arm. "Harry Potter, don't you _dare_ scare me like that again! Don't you know how terrified we were of you flying like that?!"

"Scared?" Ron countered, a smile rivalling that of the Cheshire Cat plastered on his face. "Mate, that was bloody awesome! Why didn't you do this with my brothers present?! Charlie'd go mad with jealousy that he couldn't pull that off!"

"That was impressive!" Audrey complimented. "If you wanted to you could play for Puddlemere United!"

Harry smiled, even as he shook his head. "Thanks, but I have other aspirations in life at the moment."

Audrey and the others looked like they were about to question why, but he was spared when someone firmly grabbed his shoulder from behind. Startled, he looked around, and was pleasantly surprised to see Amelia standing behind him, a large smile on her face.

"Well, you'll certainly give my brother a run for his money," she admitted. "If us Puffs don't win the cup this year, I won't mind if you Gryffindors do so in our stead."

"Glad you approve," He said, smiling at the Head Girl. He was pulled back to reality and out of the moment by Moliere tugging his arm. "I gotta go, or they might start flinging dirt-"

"That's Sacrilege!" Moliere interrupted indignantly.

"-at me," Harry finished. "Talk later at supper?"

"Sure," Amelia said, staring bitterly at Moliere for interrupting the moment. "Can I ask you something later? In private?"

"Sure," Harry said hesitantly, not sure what to say more with the growing crowd around him.

"Great!" Amelia stated cheerfully. "See you then!" With that she walked off, and the gap was immediately closed by more celebrating Gryffindor students, Lily among them. Harry returned to celebrating his great victory against Slytherin, and put Amelia from his mind for the moment. Especially when the Marauders announced there would be a house party after supper.

As he promised, after retelling how he did it at the end of the match and stood on his broomstick at least two dozen times to those that asked, he managed to reach a secluded spot at the Gryffindor table around dinner time, quite close to the professors' table where, for some reason, aside from the first years very few wanted to sit.

Fortunately, Amelia chose that moment to join him there, sitting down in front of him and helping herself to a bowl of stew and a plate of fish and chips. Evidently, she was hungry.

"This private enough, Amelia?" he asked in concern as she started eating. "Or do you want to sit some place else?"

"What, no 'hello, Amelia, how was your day'?" she teased. "And here I thought that unlike your brother and Black, you had manners."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said, his tone a mix of sarcasm and mock-exasperation before it took on an exaggerated chivalrous note. "Hello, Amelia. How lovely to see you! How has your day been so far, Dear?"

"Much better," Amelia said sarcastically, her tone the same mixture of sarcasm and exasperation. "And for the record, this is private enough. It's not something grave or anything, but it isn't something you ask in front of the Marauders, either."

Harry nodded, realising it was something sensitive. He made a brief check of everyone he knew, and was satisfied to see that aside from Luna, the closest people that knew him were at least a quarter of the table away, and Luna could keep a secret.

"Shoot," he said, his wand in hand under the table casting a privacy charm just in case.

"I'm warning you right now, Harry: I'm nervous, so I'm likely to prattle on. If word of this conversation ever reaches anyone else before the Hogsmeade weekend, I'll hex out your intestines, knot them into a noose, and hang you from them from the Astronomy Tower."

Harry nodded, her fierce tone and threatening look reminding him more of the DMLE head of his own time, the one he'd only briefly seen at his trial and still knew to deeply fear. "I believe you."

"Good," Amelia said, her stern gaze replaced by a nervous look as she put some loose strands of hair back behind her ear. "I like you, Harry. We get along very well during the DA meetings, as well as outside it. But I don't know much about you, which is surprising considering we're almost two months at school already. I mean, I don't know when you were sent abroad, who taught you, where you've actually been most of he time, and…" She trailed off, shaking her head nervously again.

Harry took the brief moment he had to take a good look at her, something he hadn't had the time for before. Most of their conversations had been brief, and in the DA he was too busy instructing or duelling and practising to give the girl a good look over. The only things he knew for sure was that she was athletic, she had shoulder length red hair and one eye a bit worse than the other, for which she wore a monocle whenever she needed to read.

But as he now looked at her, he also noticed a few other things. For one, she had a fine figure, almost hourglass-like even if her chest wasn't as prominent as a few others he'd seen. She was also keen, despite her nervousness still often glancing around and taking in her surroundings, keeping an eye on the Slytherin table as a precaution. Not that anyone would dare do something with all the professors sitting so close, but Harry admitted it was a good habit to get into. Snape and Roxanne and those of the DA seemed more the exception than the rule.

But he was digressing. She also had nice dimples whenever she smiled, something he found quite attractive in her. And not to forget she had hazel eyes that just seemed to entrance him whenever he stared, and he felt a slight stirring in his stomach whenever their eyes met. In short, Harry found her quite attractive and good to look at. And adding her skill in duelling and their matching traits into the mix, he found he actually _liked her_ liked her.

"I want to get to know you better, Harry." Amelia finally started over again, getting over her nerves. "And since a Hogsmeade weekend isn't that far away, I was wondering if… You know… We…"

"If we could go to Hogsmeade together," Harry smiled nervously. He'd never been asked out by a girl before, and his date with Cho Chang hadn't exactly gone wonderfully. He really didn't want to add Amelia to the mix of girls whose dates with him went disastrously. But he found himself actually looking forward to this. Amelia really was good company, and she wouldn't blame him if things went badly. At least, he _hoped_.

"As friends," she said quickly, though her blush and nervousness showed him she wouldn't mind otherwise. "It would be pretty fast, going from just meeting and partnering up in the DA to going on dates like boyfriends and girlfriends while we barely know one another. I'd like to simply use this weekend to get to know you better. And if it goes well… Well, we'll see how it goes from there, right?"

Harry nodded. That seemed like a good idea at least. It would also help bridge the age gap of two years a bit, and ensure they'd actually have a good foundation of trust before they did anything rash.

"Sure," he answered, smiling at her as she sagged her shoulders in relief. "I'd like that."

Amelia visibly glowed at the news, and he found he actually enjoyed this smile even more. "I'd love that too."

"Good," Harry said awkwardly, before movement caught his attention. He saw James standing there with a pout. He turned apologetically to Amelia. "I'd better go. The Marauders are holding a party to celebrate our win, and-"

"And it would be foolhardy to keep them waiting, especially if they have access to Vin Santorini's 'fireworks' for the night," she said understandingly. "Meet you at the carriages at ten then? Most of the weeks and weekend between then will be filled with homework and studying for my NEWTs, and we'll be too busy at the DA to talk properly."

Harry nodded, and got up. "See you at the carriages!" He said enthusiastically, smiling even more when he saw her blush at his enthusiasm. He was sure the grin was practically splitting his face apart by now.

"Have fun!" Amelia called as she got up, and Harry ended the privacy charm. She walked over to a bulky redhead sitting at the Hufflepuff. Her brother Edgar, he saw when he got a glimpse of his face. Harry gave a final smile, before he schooled his face a bit and turned to his brother.

"What was that all about?" James asked, as Harry joined him and the two walked to Gryffindor tower.

"Just some private stuff," Harry dismissed. "Something 'you don't ask in front of the Marauders.' Her words, not mine."

James' eyes widened a bit, and Harry thought he detected a hint of a smirk, but he relented and stayed silent on the matter. Instead, he directed the conversation elsewhere. "You looking forward to the party?"

"It's just a Gryffindor house party, right?" Harry asked.

James laughed outright, throwing his head back as he answered. "Harry, there is one thing you will learn here: no party is 'just' a party where the Marauders are involved."

It turned out, his father wasn't exaggerating. If anything, he was _understating_ it. When Harry and James arrived at the portrait hole after supper and the Fat Lady let them inside, most of their house had preceded them and the party was already mostly underway, with only a few stragglers missing. Someone had transfigured the usual study tables and large comfy chairs into a bar with bar stools, and tables more suited for a low-level muggle cafe than a common room. Someone (likely Peter and/or Sirius, as their Animagus forms were more inconspicuous) had made a trip to Hogsmeade and brought numerous kegs of Butterbeer that reached up to Harry's hips, as well as three crates with twenty four bottles of Firewhisky each. Beside it stood a table with various snacks, where Ron and Neville were deep in conversation about something. Each of the three piles had a couple of chatting seventh years standing beside it to stand guard to ensure no one underage tried to sneak and steal any and that those of age didn't take more than their fair share. Someone had also placed a music booth, and put Remus at the helm, who took at it with surprisingly great enthusiasm. It had multiple Wizarding Wireless installations playing with seventies Wizarding dance music, which wasn't any different at all from Wizarding wireless music in his own time, Harry realised.

And then there were the students themselves. A couple of burly seventh years were having an arm wrestling contest with numerous people around them betting on the outcome, cheering their respective party on. In a secluded corner Harry saw a group of Muggleborns from various years play Poker in the background, likely covered by a silencing charm, and Lily and Hermione were both sitting in that corner reading and enjoying the silence. Evidently the party was a bit too much for them. In other various study corners he saw quite a few people snogging, including Audrey and Joshua. The centre of the Common Room had been cleared, and most people were dancing in the centre, Marlene and Sirius taking the spotlight with Ginny and Luna dancing close by while Moliere, Vinnie, and Peter cheered them on. There was no sign of Mary at first glance, but when Harry took a quick look around again he saw her snogging a seventh year in one of the study corners, half hidden by the curtains of a nearby window. But what shocked Harry the most was the house itself: even though no one wore uniforms he recognised numerous people from other houses also on the floor, and he saw nearly two times as many students in the magically expanded Common Room as there should be in the entirety of Gryffindor house. He even recognised Cyrus Greengrass and Roxanne Sterling sitting cozily together at the bar, toasting at something before drinking together.

"This is normal around here?" Harry asked in shock as he turned to his brother. No one, not even Fred and George, had managed to pull off a party of this size in the common room in Harry's time. The only large celebration Harry had witnessed were the school championships themselves and the World Cup. And even those Harry had failed to attend entirely, occupied by his godfather's antics after his escape and the fight between Ron and Hermione about Crookshanks and Scabbers, and the Death Eater raid respectively.

"Only if we win either the Gryffindor-Slytherin match or the Quidditch Championship," James assured him. "We have other parties, but those are admittedly less impressive in size than this."

"And McGonagall lets us do this?" Harry asked, not believing that. There was no way the stern head of house and deputy headmistress would stand for this.

"No, but that's the beauty of it," James said before gesturing around. "The Common Room is magically expanded to fit everyone, and the entire tower is under a silencing ward cast by seventh years, so no teacher will hear us as long as the portrait doesn't open. We've silenced and covered the portraits with blankets and curtains, so they can't tell tales either. The house elves agreed to not mention anything as long as we clear out most of the Butterbeer and Firewhisky ourselves. And last but not least: we've bribed Peeves to cause trouble down in the potions labs, which will take hours for the professors to clean up. And even if we're caught, what will they do? Every house has at least twenty students here. They can hardly assign us all detention and take points."

"They could take away Hogsmeade privileges, or call our parents," Harry pointed out, though by now he was grinning almost as much as James. So far the party seemed quite enjoyable, and even Lily and Hermione, the ones Harry expected to object the most, were not only in the room but actively enjoying themselves, even if it was only by reading or striking up conversation with the others enjoying the quiet. That alone was an indicator of success, as both were quite rule-abiding.

"True," James admitted. "But we know of a secret passage near the kitchens that leads to a small shed two hundred meters from the Three Broomsticks. If any of those are taken we'll spread word around about that one, and the rest of us will take the one leading to Honeydukes." He finally looked concerned. "You're right, though: Dad usually takes this kind of thing pretty well, but Mum will send a Howler if we're caught."

Harry nodded. He was in fact planning on using that route himself if he was caught and his privileges taken away. In any case, he wouldn't be the only one caught if McGonagall decided to check up on them. And as for Dorea and Charlus… better to ask for forgiveness than permission, he figured. James seemed to go by the same line of thinking anyway.

Oh, what the hell. He needed to loosen up anyway, with everything that's going on. Knowing his luck he might be kidnapped by Voldemort himself the first step he took out of the castle. He might as well enjoy the opportunity while it lasted.

He smirked, and led James to the Butterbeer table to get some liquid courage, and headed for the dance section afterwards. His mouth dropped open in astonishment when he caught Luna snogging Sirius full on the mouth in the middle of it, Sirius leaning on her arm as Luna had unbalanced him with her enthusiasm, cheered on by Ginny and everyone else. His mouth dropped an inch more when Sirius started to lean into it as he steadied himself.

Harry and James turned to one another in astonishment. "What the hell did we miss while being late?" Harry asked. He'd had no idea Luna would go that far so soon already with her attraction to Sirius. Or that Sirius would take it that well. Then again, Butterbeer and Firewhisky tend to loosen people up and make them forget their inhibitions.

"I don't know James answered, smirking as he saw Peter get out his camera again. "But this one is going into the scrapbook."

Harry smirked, agreeing with James that a younger Sirius and Luna together brought up quite the memorable image. Harry stopped the train of thought there and decided to enjoy the party himself. He didn't need to envision what an _older_ Sirius and Luna together would be like.

* * *

 _ **Entrance gates, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands**_

Luna smirked happily, as she hopped onto the carriage with Neville, Sirius, Peter, Marlene, and Ginny. Seconds before the door closed, Harry hopped in, though, followed closely by Amelia Bones. Through the window in the door she saw James, Remus, Hermione, Ron, Audrey, Vinnie, Mary, and Lily enter the one next to theirs. The door closed and locked, and the Thestrals started pulling them toward Hogsmeade.

Bones was good for Harry, Luna had noticed in the DA. She made him smile, something he didn't do often. At the very least, she'd make a very good friend for him. She didn't expect it to last if their friendship got more serious, though. In that regard they did not go together well enough. Amelia was kind, but too dedicated to the law and her family, and wouldn't give Harry the attention he deserved.

Ginny might do, Luna supposed. True, at the moment the shadow of Harry's Boy-Who-Lived moniker still terrified Luna's friend too much to really talk with him properly. But she was warm, friendly, they knew one another fairly well already, and had a number of common interests. If Ginny could overcome her crush on the image of the Boy-Who-Lived, and start to get to know the real Harry, she might achieve her childhood dream of marrying him.

Then again, Luna herself had her own love life to work on. Ever since the kiss at the party two weeks ago Sirius had promptly clammed up whenever she approached, too nervous or unsettled to really talk with her. A shame, really, since she had started to like Sirius very much. Well, Stubby Bordman, really. You never knew if he took Polyjuice frequently. If he did, Luna would still like him.

She didn't know why though, and that bothered her, which unsettled her even more. Not that she didn't know, though. She was used to not knowing things for certain, like whether the Crumple-Horned Snorkack was real or not, or whether Magicing Morphs really liked to nestle in messy hair. No, what unsettled her was that she was bothered by not knowing. She was usually never bothered by such things. Not even when Hermione doubted the existence of another of the many unknown creatures she informed people about.

Well, she might find out why by taking a closer look at herself and Sirius, so she might know. Then the bothering would stop, and she would be at peace again. There was Sirius: handsome, a bit above average height, a dramatic streak, had a sense of humour that would have Luna in tears of laughter every time were it not for her mother's instilled Occlumency before that accident. He also had a rather nice other form, a dog that she rather liked. She saw it often in her second year, and often gave it some of the biscuits she saved for an afternoon snack for herself. It had looked hungry back then.

Then there was Luna herself. Admittedly eccentric, odd, and with peculiar beliefs that had no physical proof. And yet, before the party and that rather nice kiss, she often saw Sirius glancing at her sometimes when she sat with the people of her year. True, that was mostly the extent of what he did, but Luna liked to think there was more to it. Like there was with Hermione and Remus Lupin.

Now there was a match made to last, possibly even one to be recommended for a soul bond. They were practically perfect for one another: same interests, same morals, same friends that got them in trouble. Yet they differed enough that it wouldn't be too close a match: some of their bad habits were countered by the good ones of the other. An example of this was how Remus's mischievous streak that ensured he fit in so well with the Marauders kept Hermione more social, less tense, and easier to be around. Likewise, Hermione's own fierce willingness to stand up for her beliefs helped keep Remus out of his depressing belief that as a Werewolf he didn't deserve happiness. Really, they worked rather well.

She'd only hoped she and Sirius worked out that well, but her bluntness at the party and the kiss she'd given him had scared him off. Perhaps some of Ginny's advice was right: she was rather forward, admittedly to the point she could scare people off with it.

Hmmmm. Hermione had advised Ginny in early fifth year in their own time that Ginny should date other people so she could talk more easily with Harry. Perhaps Luna could join them on these dates, and see how Ginny acted. It might help her see how she should interact with Sirius.

She tapped Ginny's shoulder. "Ginny?"

"What is it, Luna?" Ginny asked, looking up from the broom magazine she and Marlene had been perusing.

"If you go on a date with someone, can I come with you? I need some more experience myself," she answered, managing to suppress a smirk as everyone, even Sirius, blushed at her openness. True, she was of a healthy enough state of mind to know those type of things could be embarrassing to ask, especially so in the open. But oh how she enjoyed the reactions it got out of people. It also told you a lot about who they really were. For example, if they didn't react, the-

Something hit the carriage, and there was a bright orange flash. Next thing she knew she was flying around as the carriage rolled off the main road, the tracers with the Thestral severed by whatever had attacked them. The door flew open as they tumbled, the locks evidently also damaged by the attack. She was flung from her seat and out the door by a particularly hard bounce, and she landed in the grass, rolling around until coming to a stop next to the stump of a tree.

Shaking, Luna got to her feet. She immediately took in her surroundings: one advantage of Mum's spell was that the Occlumency immediately cleared her head of any confusion or dizziness whenever it hit her. She saw the trail they'd tracked through the land, which led up back to the main road to Hogsmeade. It was two hundred, maybe three hundred meters away, at the top of a hill they'd been traversing on the way to the village. The attack had been well planned: if they were quick, the attackers could get anyone out long before help could arrive.

She turned around and inspected the carriage. It was laying on its side and on fire, a small one on the underside not large enough to really endanger the occupants yet, and one of the wheels had broken off. She wasn't the only one who had been flung out, though, as she saw Ginny's red hair a bit beside it, and Neville was laying in the doorway.

And a group of masked Death Eaters were already at the carriage, with two even heading inside already. Luna ran ahead, drawing her wand. She silenced her footsteps and herself as she ran to them, attempting to sneak up. One of her talents according to the Gringotts test was a very strong affinity for nonverbal magic, which was in turn amplified to very powerful levels by her father's own talent at it. She made the most use of it, and stunned the nearest one as soon as she got in range. They couldn't hurt Harry and Ginny, her first real friends.

The DA had helped, fortunately, as she hit her target immediately upon casting. It alerted the others to her presence, though, and they all turned around. She immediately dove into the long grass of the hill. The Death Eaters wouldn't hesitate to cast a killing curse, and she couldn't dodge that many at once. Maybe stunning one of them so early hadn't been such a good idea, after all.

"Behind us," one of them said. "They got Alecto."

"Leave her, Pyrites," someone inside the carriage said said. "Intel was spot on: all three in one carriage."

"Look out: the Potter's a fighter!" a third called.

Luna raised her head a bit so she could look, and saw an unconscious Amelia Bones being dragged out of the carriage by one of the Death Eaters, with a second grabbing Neville's shoulder. Spells flew out of the carriage, and she heard a distinct thud, even from this distance, which meant one of them had been slammed into a wall violently.

Harry jumped out of the carriage, tackling the Death Eater dragging Amelia.

Then Luna felt a spell hit her from behind from the direction of the road, and she only knew blackness from then on.

* * *

Harry shook his head to clear the dizziness. What the hell had hit them? One moment he'd been talking with Amelia on where they would go, the next…

The dizziness cleared, and he looked around. He was still in the carriage, though it was tilted at an angle so the roof was diagonally to the ground, and most of the walls were slightly sagged in. The door was open, torn off its hinges during the fall, and Ginny and Luna were nowhere to be seen. He immediately stood up in alarm, grabbing his wand.

He heard voices outside, and for a moment hoped a teacher had been right behind their carriage and had found them, or that a villager had been on his way to Hogwarts and been there when they'd crashed. He should've known his luck wouldn't last that long, though, for he next heard a recognisable voice belonging to Antonin Dolohov give out orders.

"Search the carriage. No unnecessary killing: He wants you to be able to traverse our world in the open, and you're useless to the Dark Lord if you gain yourself Undesirable status for no reason. I speak from experience he doesn't like that."

Harry tightened the grip on his wand. He was surrounded; everyone else was unconscious or missing. And even if they were awake most of them were crap at duelling anyway, like Marlene and Peter.

One Death Eater appeared in the doorway, blocking out the light. Harry immediately cast a stunner at her, but she dodged aside. She was suddenly felled from behind by a curse as she jumped out of Harry's easy range of hexing, and Harry held out hope they'd been found. That hope was crushed when three more appeared in the doorway to take her place, and shouts came from outside.

"Leave her, Pyrites," Dolohov called back, as he entered the doorway as well, and all four effectively blocked Harry's exit. Harry snarled and blocked out Dolohov's further reply, as he started hexing and cursing and shielding. One hex fortunately rebounded against his shield and hit the rightmost Death Eater in the shoulder, blasting her backwards into the wall of the carriage.

Harry tried to curse a few more, but Dolohov grabbed Amelia's shoulder and started dragging her out, while another, likely this Pyrites, grabbed Neville's shoulder. Harry swore, and bumped the final one standing in the doorway aside and tackled Dolohov, consequences be damned. He understood why they were after him but there was no way they were taking Amelia.

He and Dolohov crashed into the ground. Harry immediately got up as Dolohov let go of Amelia during his fall, and tried to hex him again. Behind the Death Eater he saw a number of other students heading towards them to help, escorted by Professor Clarke, who ran forwards and tossed a potion at the nearest Death Eater, which exploded in his face. The Death Eater landed hard, but was still conscious and Portkeyed away. Another tried to duel Clarke, but he still was unprepared for the Professor's apt use of potions. A blinding potion was thrown in front of the Death Eater, and in his moment of confusion Clarke swiftly stunned him. Harry had to admit he saw the merit of what Clarke had been trying to teach them.

His moment of distraction cost him, though. Dolohov tossed something against his head, and he stumbled, falling over Amelia and landing with his feet on top of her. Next, he felt a dizzying sensation as something hooked behind his navel and he was suddenly speeding forwards in a howl of wind and swirling colours. The very next moment he felt himself and Amelia slam into the ground somewhere, and he winced in pain at a bad landing.

He'd been hit with a Portkey, he realised immediately. The question was where he was at the moment.

"Surprise!" a smooth voice called behind him as he rose to his knee, and he turned around. Only to be hit by a mild blasting curse to the chest. It wasn't a hard or strong one: all it did was throw him backwards a few meters to slam hard onto his back. But it had the desired effect: he was in so much pain and so dizzy at the moment he wouldn't be able to put up a fight. He also thought he'd broken a rib, judging by his difficulty breathing.

"K-Karkaroff," He managed as he recognised the voice of Durmstrang's future headmaster, shakingly raising his wand to point at the Death Eater as he stepped over the unconscious Amelia to get at him. Karkaroff was quicker, casting a quick and silent Expelliarmus.

"Oh no, you don't!" he said with a heavily accented voice as he caught Harry's wand. Harry managed to get himself to his hands and knees, and tried to rise. But someone very strong slammed his fists into his back, bringing him back down to the ground. Someone else kicked his hand out from under him as he caught his own fall, and he still managed to land face-first into the floor, his glasses cracking as they were smashed against the stone. He was hauled upwards by two very strong pairs of arms, and saw Karkaroff looking down at him.

"Lights out!" Karkaroff said enthusiastically, and he gave Harry a hard kick to the face. Then Harry knew no more as he slipped into unconsciousness himself.

* * *

 _* = See Author's Note at end of Chapter 2_

* * *

 **Cliffhanger, people. Sorry, but I couldn't resist. Up next: Potter's fate, reactions to the attack from Hogwarts and Dumbledore, Neville gains an ally he's wary of, and the (unfortunately inevitable) rescue.**

 **Bomb voyage!**

 **Lucian**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter six rolls around.**

 **M-rated warning: torture scenes described in detail (not indicated with story breaks).**

 **Have fun reading. And as always: Read, Review, and if you enjoy it, Favourite!**

* * *

Chapter 6

 _ **Accident site, near Road between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, Scottish Highlands**_

James panicked and jumped out as soon as his carriage had stopped and slowly turned around. That explosion had come from Sirius and Harry's carriage just ahead of them, with only Professor Clarke's carriage between them.

He tried to run to the edge of the road they walked on, and saw the carriage rolling down violently and quite quickly. No way could James keep up with that, even as Prongs. He tried to run down, to help Harry and Sirius and Peter, the only things on his mind right now.

Only to be held back. He tried to pull himself forward, but it was no use. Someone far stronger than he was was holding him back, as he watched two people fly out the broken carriage door, and the carriage itself come to a stop against a tree stump at the bottom of the hill. He turned around, to look in the eyes of Hermione and Remus.

"You'll only get yourself killed, James," Remus said. "Look."

James followed Remus's finger, and swallowed deeply. A dozen Death Eaters were already apparating in, and nearly eight more appeared from hiding places all around the bottom of the hill (hell, one even crawled out from _underneath_ the carriage), and were already on the students down there.

"We have to help them," James insisted. "They'll get killed otherwise."

"I'll help them," a new voice said, and Professor Clarke jumped down from his own carriage just ahead of them. "You stay here, or it's detention every night until you graduate. That's an order!"

James reluctantly swallowed, but did as he was told: Professor Clarke was a former Auror, one of the few ones overseas uncle Fleamont had a good word about, and his family had faith in him. He'd been in such an emergency once before, when a fight broke out as he and his father were birthday shopping for Mum, and knew when to obey such an order.

Yet most students didn't, though, as those riding with professor Clarke all left the carriage and ran down to help him. James frowned, though, when he noticed they were predominantly Slytherins, among them Snivellus, Greengrass, Davis, Sirius' brother, Sterling, Mulciber and Avery. All of them were casting spells in the Death Eaters' general direction, and it developed into a chaotic mêlée down there.

"Screw it," James said, grabbing his own wand and running to join the fray. He'd be damned if Snivellus got to boast about how he heroically tried to help the other students, including James's best friend and brother, while James himself stood by. He ignored Remus and Hermione's attempts to get him to come back, instead running down the hill as fast as he could. Clarke was already near the Death Eaters, and fighting against most of them. Potions were being thrown everywhere, and with every explosion or flash of light from them a Death Eater fell to the ground.

But even as he approached, James realised it was too late. Death Eaters started portkeying or apparating out, and those too injured to do so were being grabbed hold of by those who weren't. Professor Clarke tried to hold on to one of the unconscious Death Eaters, but as James ran up to help he was knocked aside by...

Antonin Dolohov.

Shit.

Clarke was easily knocked aside by the man's Depulso, and Dolohov grabbed the woman's shoulder before both of them disappeared, long before either the professor or James could get a look at the woman's face.

He looked around, but he was too late: Dolohov had been the last one, apparently. All that was left were the flaming carriage and the various students approaching. Deciding it was safe enough, James hurried inside. To his relief, Sirius was just waking up, as were Peter and Marlene. But there was no sign of Harry, Bones, or any of the others. He made a quick look around. Ginny was getting up from the grass, a large bruise on her forehead. That was one of them accounted for at least. But the others...

"Luna!" Hermione yelled, and she and Remus ran over to a limp form by one of the handful of tree stumps that were scattered at the bottom of the hill. After making sure Sirius and Peter were all right (and judging from the fact Sirius made a crass joke about his sexuality when he kept asking, and Peter snickered loudly when he asked, they likely were) he ran over as well.

"She's all right," Remus reassured him when he arrived, and a stressed Luna was held comfortingly by Hermione as the girl stared blankly ahead of her. "They just stunned her."

"What happened, Luna?" James asked, pausing as Sirius, Peter, and Ginny walked over as well, and Ron approached at a small trot too. When they all arrived, James continued. "All we saw was a bright flash, and the next thing we know your carriage is tumbling down the hill, and Death Eaters are swarming all over the place when it stopped."

Luna made a quick look around, before leaning in and whispering. "The Death Eaters have a spy inside the school."

"What?" Most of them asked at various states of loudness, James having to hold his ears when Ron practically yelled it in his ear.

"I was flung out of the carriage," Luna quickly explained. "I didn't land too hard, as I still could get up. I saw the Death Eaters approach the carriage, and tried to ambush them. It didn't work, as I was a bit outnumbered, and had to hide almost immediately. I saw Bones and Neville being grabbed hold of by the Death Eaters when Harry tackled one of them. Then I was hit by a stunner."

"So you were ambushed from the side." Ron refuted. "It's bad, they could've killed you for Godric's sake, but it can happen. That doesn't mean that-"

Luna put her finger to his lips, silencing him immediately. "You don't understand. I couldn't see who it was, but from where and how it impacted I know it came from up there." She removed the finger from Ron's lips and pointed, and they all looked. James's stomach sank.

She was pointing to the top of the hill, where the carriages stood. Far above where the Death Eaters had made a defensive stand. That meant it had been one of the students.

Knowing it would never have been any of their group, he looked around, casting suspicious glances at the predominantly Slytherin students: Greengrass, Snivellus, Regulus, and Sterling, the latter shaking a bit as she suffered a mild panic attack. Avery and Mulciber, grumbling amongst themselves as they inspected the carriage. Two more with Slytherin ties James didn't know by name, as they were explaining to Professor Clarke what they saw happen. And Davis, helping Marlene up the hill and back to the carriages.

And in that moment he knew one of them had likely done it. They just had to. Professor Clarke was a good man, his uncle had said so himself. Clarke had, in fact, once earned a life debt from Fleamont when they'd hunted Dolohov when he'd been sighted in the States a year back, so there was not a doubt in his mind the man was innocent. So he was definitely out. That simply left the students. But who? None of them were hostile to those on the carriage, and had no reason to have them kidnapped. If it had been Sirius who'd been taken, James would've gladly pointed the finger at Snivellus. The greasy hit would do anything to get the Marauders killed or expelled. But it had been Harry, who had been instructing most of them in the DA, and of whom almost everyone in the school had a very high opinion of. So who?

"James." Sirius said, and James turned to a fear-stricken face. James looked to where Sirius was staring.

And paled. His father was running down the hill, a pair of furious Bones twins right on his heels. James swallowed, Knowing it was up to him to explain to his father that Harry had been taken. And while he knew the man wasn't angry at him, Charlus could be bloody terrifying when he was upset.

Grabbing the few shreds of Gryffindor courage he had left, he got up and walked to his father, not looking forward to explaining that his virtual brother had been taken by Dolohov.

* * *

 _ **Unknown**_

The world swirled slightly as Harry regained consciousness. His jaw ached from the kick Karkaroff had given him, and he felt blood trickle down his chin and neck as he was dragged down the hallways of... wherever he was. He tried to raise his head, and see where he was going. But all he saw were robed figures he couldn't make sense of in his dizzy state, and torches lining black walls with vague decorations. He did recognise Karkaroff, though, as the Death Eater boasted loudly as he walked ahead of Harry, his minions dragged Harry down the corridor.

"Greyback, he's coming to," the voice of the one dragging Harry's left arm said, and Harry realised they could see he was awake.

"Stay down!" Greyback roared, let go of Harry's right arm with one hand and promptly gave him another punch to the mouth. The world dizzied again, and the edges of his vision blackened, but Harry somehow managed to remain conscious. He took his time clearing his head, and wisely also kept his eyes in narrow slits at most.

He could make out a bit more now. Death Eaters, or their allies, as Harry wasn't sure if they were all high enough in rank to be marked, were cheering on what Harry realised was a victory procession. He hung his head a bit more, pretending to finally fall into unconsciousness, and was dismayed to recognise Neville being dragged behind him as well, also unconscious. Likely to humiliate them, hence why they were dragged here instead of floated there under levitation and a body-bind.

Wherever they were being dragged, it had come to an end, as they emerged into a large underground chamber.

"Enervate," a voice whispered; Harry felt the invigorating effects of the spell hit him, and he pretended to suddenly regain consciousness.

No longer needing to pretend, he freely looked around where he was. The chamber was massive, nearly as big as the Great Hall. It was, like Slughorn's office, lined with works of art, and small statues of gold and platinum half again the average person's height. Clearly, whoever had decorated the chamber had meant to impress. Filling the room were dozens of Death Eaters and their allies, all of them masked in either official Death Eater regalia, or shabby and thick clothes and robes that also covered the faces of the wearer. Harry also reckoned he saw a few Vampires and Werewolves in the crowd, and even a bunch of goblins that watched him with calculating sneers not dissimilar from the future Snape.

The crowd parted a bit, and a group of Death Eaters joined them, marching in front of Karkaroff and the others. Harry caught a glimpse of Dolohov before the man turned to face the centre of the room, where they seemed to be headed.

The crowd parted as they finally arrived. Harry was suddenly tossed forward, landing on his hands and knees; Neville was tossed down on his right. Amelia landed on Neville's right, completing the row. Harry looked up, and saw a Throne covered in shadows in the centre of the cleared circle.

This was bad, Harry realised. They'd been ambushed by Death Eaters and were likely in their headquarters right now, outnumbered and outmatched by likely fifty to one by the looks of the crowd, with no one knowing where the hell they were. And, if Harry _really_ had characteristic Potter luck, he'd likely even meet Voldemort himself again. Not a good idea this early at all. Even if no one else was around and they were somewhere of Harry's choosing, the monster still had decades of experience and vast knowledge of magic that Harry didn't have, and likely could beat Harry without breaking a sweat. His odds of surviving just dropped to near-zero.

"As promised, my Lord," Dolohov announced, taking position in front of Harry and the others. "Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and Amelia Bones."

"You have done well, Antonin," a voice answered, and Harry's neck hairs stood up immediately upon recognising it. "I trust there were few problems acquiring them?"

"Potter put up a good fight. A true son of the Baron, if there was any doubt before. But he did nothing more permanent than cast a stunning charm and cause a bruise. We were also noticed by the DADA professor and a handful of other students, and a couple of us were injured, but none could reach us before we got the children out of there."

"Very good," the voice complimented, before a hooded figure came down from the shadow-covered throne. "You will be rewarded greatly for this service, Antonin. Come see me after I'm done with the three you've brought me."

Antonin nodded, and stepped back to the edge of the crowd so he could still observe, yet not stand out. The figure from the throne calmly walked towards them, as if it were only a mere stroll in the park, until he stood right in front of them.

"Ah, Amelia Bones." Voldemort began, as he knelt a bit so he could look her in the eye. Amelia wisely looked away and downwards, preventing direct Legilimency contact. "Infamous daughter of Deckard Bones and a muggle peasant. You have quite the reputation with my followers in Hogwarts," the lead Death Eater sneered. "Well on your way to becoming an Auror. Perhaps even a hit wizard, if you prove tenacious enough."

Amelia grumbled something, before looking up, focusing on Voldemort's forehead. "Better to fight and die for something I believe in, than bowing down and kissing your dirty feet."

Most Death Eaters gasped at the insult, or started giving threats that made Harry seriously rethink his own planned response when the Voldemort came to talk about him. In contrast to his followers, though, Voldemort merely chuckled.

"Ooooh, such spirit, Amelia," he cackled happily. "Oh, we'll have a fun time breaking that one resolve of yours," he smirked, before walking over to stand in front of Neville.

"And here is the first mystery man," Voldemort proclaimed, as he stared down at a nervous yet defiant looking Neville. "Neville Longbottom. You know what I find very interesting, Neville?"

"Merlin's left ballsack?" Harry sarcastically murmured before he could stop himself. Evidently it wasn't quiet enough though. The next thing he knew an enormous amount of pain swept over him, like a thousand boiling-hot knives stabbing him at every exposed bit of space on his body. He fell down and jerked on the ground, arching his back as an agonising torment swept over him. Harry blacked out for a moment, as the pain became too much for him to bear at that moment.

"...speak unless spoken to, Potter," Voldemort whispered, as Harry was awakened with another Enervate bare instants before the blackness engulfed him entirely, and the Cruciatus curse was lifted. "I was talking to Neville."

Harry wisely kept silent, as Voldemort returned his gaze to Neville, who had his head averted away as well, though he scanned the crowd instead of looking down. "As I was saying," Voldemort continued. "The very interesting thing about you, Neville, is that you should not exist."

Harry widened his eyes, as he got himself to his hands and knees again, kept from rising fully by an unknown curse of Voldemort that kept them bowing to him. Voldemort was eyeing Neville greedily. "You see Neville, when you and Harry were supposed to be born, your family had a certain ally who would have witnessed such an event: Reginald Lestrange, an old friend of your father's."

Harry saw Neville nod. "We heard of him," Neville affirmed. "A bastard that tortures Squibs for fun."

The Dark Lord merely chuckled. "Yes, your family has made their opinion of the Lestranges and their change of allegiance very clear," Voldemort acknowledged. "But what I find very curious, is that his exact memories of Augusta Longbottom at that time are fuzzed over now, while I myself distinctly recall from past encounters of Legilimency that she wasn't pregnant at the time at all."

Harry's heart skipped a few beats in concern, as Voldemort looked Neville a bit closer in the eye. In addition to the Fidelius charm Luna had cast to lightly change the identities of Ron and Ginny to throw off similarities to the Weasleys, they'd also cast Fidelius charms about Neville and himself, so people couldn't recall exactly whether Dorea and Augusta had been pregnant at the supposed times of birth, to throw off questions of the more inquisitive people. But even if Voldemort didn't know exactly about the time travel, he (at the very least) knew something was off with their arrival if he managed to break that part of the Fidelius. True, their actual resemblances and similar accents to how Potters and Longbottoms spoke lent them credibility, but it wouldn't last should Voldemort dive any deeper.

Voldemort took a bit of distance, and fortunately looked a bit frustrated. "Impressive Occlumency shields, Longbottom. But they won't protect you forever," he snarled, before moving over to stand in front of Harry.

"And you, Potter." Voldemort smirked. "A rogue son no one knew existed, supposedly sent to the continent to properly learn to channel his power. Yet so weak he couldn't even protect his friends."

The crowd surrounding them laughed at this, and Harry glared angrily at them all. As the silence fell and Voldemort looked like he was about to continue, Harry spoke up. "Strength and power must seem like funny things for someone who hides behind his followers and mysterious cloaks, Voldemort."

The crowd gasped in shock, and Voldemort lost his smile. He smacked Harry with the back of his hand, bringing him back down on the ground with the strength of the blow.

"AAAAAAH!" Voldemort screamed, as he stepped back, and Harry looked up in surprise. Had Voldemort hurt himself by stepping onto something?

No, Harry saw. Voldemort was clutching the hand he'd struck Harry with in pain, and said hand was covered in blisters... as if he'd been burned. Harry gasped, having seen this type of injury occur only once before.

With Quirrel.

Of course! The Voldemort of this time didn't have Harry's blood running through him, which meant the blood protection his mother had given him would still be running strong. It wasn't as strong as it was supposed to be, since Voldemort could still hurt him magically — as the Cruciatus he'd just cast proved very clearly — but physically, Voldemort could not touch him without causing himself significant injury.

One weakness spotted, and a plan to make. He needed to power up the strength of that shield again, and soon. And that meant casting a blood ward with his mother's blood somewhere where she often visited yet didn't seem suspicious for her to do so. Gryffindor tower would be easiest, but he doubted this Dumbledore would allow it without knowing all the details why, something Harry wasn't willing to share yet.

 _Focus!_ Harry chastised himself. Voldemort had finally healed his hand, and lost any semblance of amusement he had in the first place. Instead, he now stared at Harry with intrigue.

"Who are you, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked, striding again towards Harry yet stopping far enough away he wouldn't be hit if Harry suddenly lunged out. "That form of blood protection is ancient and dark, and not something the Potters typically use." He cast an unknown spell with his wand, and Harry's head suddenly shot upwards, staring directly at Voldemort. Harry realised with horror he also couldn't move his eyes. "Let's find out why they used it, shall we? Legilimens!"

Harry immediately closed off his mind, as Dorea had instructed over the summer. _Step one: keep him out of your mind. Create a mind house to house all your memories in, and hide them in ways only you would know where to look. Then cover that house in an image. One that you recognise easily, and in which you should instantly see any wrongness of an intrusion you can keep out._

The intrusion was there immediately, like it had been with his scar. It was obvious, painful, and started hammering away at any mental defences he had. Harry's way of defending his mind, keeping everything covered under a vast darkness no one could find their way in, was torn asunder as Voldemort tried to read Harry's mind. Harry tried to fill the holes of light that appeared in the darkness, but for every hole he managed to close three more appeared that were twice as difficult to seal away.

Then the darkness was cleared from his mind with a loud bang, and he knew the darkness had lifted.

 _Step two: If someone manages to lift that blank image from the house, keep him busy. Show him unimportant memories he doesn't want to see, like what you had for breakfast last week, or a fun date with friends that had you laughing. Keep him confused and occupied while you try to restore your mental defences._

Immediately, as Voldemort began searching for answers on that blood protection, he shoved a memory right in front of his mental presence, the one where he went to the zoo with the Dursleys. Voldemort quickly discarded it, though, fortunately before Harry's instance of Parseltongue that day could come to light, and began searching once more. This time, Harry shoved another useless memory at Voldemort before he could get his hands on an important one: an afternoon he had enjoyed with Ron and Hermione by the lake, shortly after the second task. Hermione had been reading a book, sharing amused yet exasperated expressions with them when Harry and Ron kept talking about Quidditch. Voldemort easily swept away that one as well.

This time, Voldemort managed to reach a memory before Harry could shove a useless one in his face. And Harry mentally paled: this was one he didn't want Voldemort to see. It was the instance in the chamber, in second year. The exact moment Voldemort revealed his real name and the anagram, to be precise. Ginny was fortunately behind him at that moment as Harry had stood upright in front of her to defend her body, but the diary lay clearly at Voldemort's feet.

Harry felt the shock Voldemort experienced upon seeing that. A shock so great, in fact, that he felt Voldemort withdraw from his mind. Harry looked up, as he feebly tried to restore what mental defences he had. Voldemort had a shocked expression on his face, that soon turned to rage as he looked at Harry in a new light.

Then he lifted his wand and cast a Sonorous, not even bothering to look away from Harry. " **IF YOU HAVE APPOINTMENTS TO KEEP TODAY, YOU WILL LEAVE NOW! THIS SESSION IS GOING TO TAKE FAR LONGER THAN USUAL!** " Voldemort announced. Immediately, a third of the people in the room stepped away or moved to exit, while the remainder stepped forwards in eager expectations, clearly wanting front-row seats for what was about to happen.

"Pyrites," Voldemort said calmly, finally looking away to address his subordinate. "Before your service to me, you were once disguised as a muggle intelligence agent, were you not?"

"Yes, my Lord." The man stepped forward and bowed, addressing his master.

"Then you know of various muggle torture techniques, I presume. Techniques even I don't know about," Voldemort pointed out. Harry felt more than saw the faces of most of those present gain wide smiles at that, including the one being addressed.

"Oh yes, my Lord. Dozens of ways to torture people, each as cruel and inventive as the next."

Voldemort smiled again, and stepped aside. "In that case, step forward and feel free to demonstrate them all on Potter. And have Bones and Longbottom watch," Voldemort added when the latter two immediately began to struggle. "I need answers from them all, and if they see what I'm willing to put their friend through, they might loosen their tongues."

"Don't say a wommmph" Harry tried to warn them, but he was immediately muffled as Pyrites eagerly conjured a towel and charmed it to cover his nose and lower face, and was partially pressed into his mouth to stop it from closing. Next he felt himself being levitated so he was upright, and a body-bind take over everything below the shoulders, so he could only move his head and neck. He saw the panicking looks of Neville and Amelia, as they were kept on their knees by Dolohov, Greyback, Karkaroff, and a foreign wizard Harry hadn't seen before, a fierce-looking redhead with a beard and mustache. They were the last thing he saw before Pyrites adjusted the towel a bit, so it covered his entire face.

"This one's a fun one, my Lord." Pyrites began. "Muggles call it 'water boarding'. I could go on for hours about what's so beautiful about it, but basically we repeatedly nearly drown him. Like so!"

Harry's suddenly panicked, as a very strong current of water hit the towel, and water started to enter through his nose and mouth as the towel was soaked wet in seconds, and the water started to leak through by the bucketfuls. He panicked himself, as he started to lose his breath. He struggled, trying to move his head and miss the endless stream of water hitting him, but it was too large. He tried to push the towel out with his tongue and close his mouth, but the pressure of the water and the force of whatever spell kept it around his head prevented him from moving it. He couldn't even breathe through his nose, as the water entered through there as well. He tried again to dislodge it, as he started to suffocate, and his vision started to blacken.

Suddenly the towel was pulled harshly from his face, and he wasted no time spitting out and coughing up the water. He tried to take a breath full of air, relishing in the stale, muddy taste of it in the underground chamber.

Pyrites pulled his head up. "Don't do it too long in one go my Lord," Pyrites explained. "Or he might actually drown and die on us, leaving him with little more use than an Inferius."

Harry looked around, and saw a gleeful Voldemort nod. "Very instructive, Pyrites. Before we continue with the lessons, though, I have a question. Would the torture be worse if the victim was affected by Dementors at the time of the torturing?"

Pyrites nodded, though his smile lessened a bit. "Yes, though anyone not in control of them would also be affected, including some of the torturers."

"How fortunate then, that Dementors only affect those I ask them to," Lord Voldemort said, as he gestured with his wand at the doors. The followers that could cast the Patronus got the hint, and soon various animals joined them, including other snakes, Tigers, wolves, cheetahs, bears, rats, and other animals. Harry, Neville, and Amelia were kept unprotected.

No sooner had the last one been cast, than four Dementors swooped into the room, gliding over the floor towards the centre. Two of them moved to hover beside Harry, while Amelia and Neville got one each. Harry instantly felt all happiness and hope abandon him, and felt the gloomy presence of them press down on him. He heard his mother's scream in the background again, as he relived his worst memory with one part of his mind while he tried to take in his surroundings with another. "Tried" being the key word.

"Now, another way to torture is a bit more familiar to you, my Lord," Pyrites said. "It's simple, really, and given we know magic it can be done at any given time," Pyrites smirked, and Harry's gloomy mood got worse at the prospect of what could be ahead of him.

"Electricity," Voldemort said knowingly.

Pyrites nodded, and raised his wand to cast. "Indeed, Electricity. Especially with the spell _Fulmenio_."

Harry's head jerked, as bolts of lightning shot from Pyrites' wand, which all hit Harry at various places. He jerked his head in agony, each bolt giving him painful shocks far above what he could usually tolerate. He faintly heard a female voice scream in the background, but he couldn't respond. He barely knew who it was, let alone whether they were screaming in happiness at his pain, or whether they were crying out trying to stop his suffering.

He felt a particularly nasty bolt hit his neck, and he almost lapsed into unconsciousness again. But apparently people wanted him awake for his suffering, for another Enervate was cast almost immediately. The bolts stopped coming, or at least in his pained state Harry saw no more flashes of light from the bolts.

He still jerked a bit, and was startled to realise he was freed of the body bind, and had been lowered onto the ground. Harry tried to bring the world in focus again, and saw Voldemort hovered over him.

"Did you enjoy that, Potter?" Voldemort asked. "Screaming in pain while lying on the floor like a wastrel? Well, there will be more of that, unless you answer my questions."

Harry doubted Voldemort would keep his word if Harry answered those questions, considering what he already knew.

"Now, Pyrites, continue torturing the boy," Voldemort instructed. "If he doesn't talk of his own volition in the next hour, start on the girl."

Harry's eyes widened in horror, and he tried to rise up onto his feet. Voldemort merely laughed, though and pointed his own wand while saying in a dull bored tone "Crucio."

Harry writhed on the ground in pain again, as he felt the torture curse sweep over him a second time. He arched his back and squeezed his eyes closed, willing the agony to go away. He started to feel a bit numb, as the pain was starting to get to him...

He focused on that pain, as it let him know he was alive. As long as he felt that pain, he knew he still had a chance, and that he wasn't insane yet. He willed his mind to persist against the ravaging pain of the Cruciatus curse as it tore through his nervous system. He willed it to go away, or at least turn the magic into something else. If only it could just feed him instead of hurting him...

To his shock, the pain receded. Not in the immediate and abrupt way the Cruciatus curse was usually lifted, but slowly and tentatively, like water slowly draining away out of a leak in a bucket. But by the fact the pain stopped entirely in his right hand told him enough. He willed it away further, and found to his shock the pain of the curse was, while not gone, at least at manageable levels. As if he'd merely had a long hard day of Quidditch practice with Oliver Wood and Frank Longbottom teaming up as coaches instead of being held under an Unforgivable.

He got to his hands and knees, his limbs shaking and trembling in exertion as they did. He had to persist, if only so they wouldn't hurt Amelia and Neville...

He rose so he was only on one knee, drawing a gasp of shock or similar exclamation of disbelief from nearly everyone present that he was able to resist the Cruciatus curse to this extent. He rose so he was only resting on one knee, his other foot already raised to stand on the ground.

"Crucio!" Voldemort renewed the curse, and Harry felt the pain renew. He fell to his knees again, and this time didn't get up again. The pain was simply starting to become too much for him to bear physically, and he was nearly drained magically from reducing the pain the Cruciatus induced on him. While Harry realised it was an impressive feat to resist the curse in this manner at all, much less wandlessly, he knew he couldn't hold it now even if he tried. He blacked out again.

"Enervate," Voldemort whispered again, and Harry groaned as he was kept awake.

"Very impressive, Mister Potter." Voldemort praised him. "Using your own magic to feed off of the pain instead of letting it consume you. I think for that alone, you deserve a small form of reprieve."

Harry looked up tiredly. He doubted the Dark Bastard child was just going to let him go that easily.

He was proven right. "Interrogations and Legilimency sessions will be postponed," Voldemort announced. "Antonin, Igor: you two had the most trouble because of Potter during your capture of him. You two will get to torture his friends while he watches."

Harry's eyes widened, as the two immediately and eagerly cast Crucio at his friends, and both writhed as the fell on the ground. Amelia arched her back, and let out an ear-splitting scream that broke Harry's heart, while Neville simply grunted and bit his own tongue so hard it bled to keep himself from screaming likewise. Harry struggled to try and get up, to help them, but his own body failed him: he didn't have enough strength to do more than briefly raise his body, before collapsing in exhaustion. A second later Voldemort cast his own Crucio at Harry, and his screams of pain joined those of his friends, as Neville was finally forced to give in.

All three of them, and the rest of the room for that matter, were unaware one Death Eater looked away and placed a silencing charm on herself so no one heard her while she wept for her family's allies behind her mask.

* * *

 _ **Riddle Manor Dungeons, Little Hangleton, England**_

Bellatrix gave one more look around before heading down. The prisoners would've been kept here, if her information was right: the Manor was too full to accommodate the prisoners safely, with so many rogue followers there that would've likely abused the situation to torture the prisoners some more, despite Voldemort's orders that they be kept alive and alone for further questioning. The Catacombs, being the headquarters for Death Eater activities, were just as unsuited, as when they were built there hadn't been built any side chambers the prisoners could be housed in. Hence, why they were kept in the original dungeons between the manor and the catacombs.

When Voldemort had first moved his own base of operations here, despite his distaste for his muggle parentage, he'd had a series of catacombs built underneath the old manor and old cellar/dungeons themselves, as he wanted more room for his followers, and a clear distinction between the regular common foot soldiers and the elite Inner Circle members. It also served as a perfect trap in case someone found him here and attacked the manor: they would assume Voldemort would sit high and dry in the expansive, powerful manor that was a symbol of his power, which was instead filled with dozens if not hundreds of his followers who would outnumber any conceivable threat. Meanwhile, Voldemort and his more valuable members would be safe and sound below it all, in his self-built underground bunker which had been disguised and built like catacombs to prevent anyone from asking the wrong questions at Gringotts or the ministry and be discovered too soon. And also because Voldemort had rather disgusting tastes, and they wouldn't have to travel for miles to properly hide a body: Any of the dozen coffins and sarcophagi would do.

Hence, with the manor itself used to house his followers and the catacombs used as headquarters, the dungeons were used to house the servants and prisoners, the former living in only marginally better circumstances than the latter. And currently, Bellatrix was headed for three cells in particular.

As she finally arrived at the levels of the old dungeons, she pressed her Dark Mark against the iron barred door, allowing her to walk through them as if they were mere smoke. It, and the Dementors that guarded the prisoners here, were only a couple of the security measures taken here. In addition, there were also two overseers: a junior recruit named Walden Macnair, and a brutish character named Horatius Wilkes. Bellatrix raised her wand as soon as they approached, and whispered "Imperio." at both of them as she entered the main corridor. She gestured for them to guard the exit and alert her if anyone approached, before setting a command to forget it all once she left.

The cells themselves were easy to spot: prisoners rarely lasted the day, much less the week, and the cells were seldom occupied. And the ones that were were often the only ones properly locked rather than just closed. She entered Bones's cell first. The girl was unconscious, lying on her stomach on the bunk bed of the cell with her face turned away. In retrospect she was the least heavily wounded. All that had been done to her, aside from the Cruciatus curse, were a bit of rough handling on the way to her cell and a new Electricity curse Bellatrix hadn't heard of, Fulmenio. Bellatrix didn't like that curse; it was almost like she could see the tendrils that usually attacked victims whenever they were put under the Cruciatus, and that she could now watch as it hurt people. She dreaded ever being put under that curse, not eager to discover how it really felt like.

She retrieved the potions from her pocket with undetectable extension charms. The most Bones would suffer from would be nerve damage, and there were a few potions that could help with that. They were uncomfortable, unfinished, and experimental, but her friend from Saint Mungo's had promised they would help, and Bellatrix believed him. She turned Bones so her body lay on its back and her head was turned upwards. She then carefully tipped the potion into her former schoolmate's mouth. She did so slowly: too much and the young woman might choke on it. Bellatrix winced, as she saw one of the spots Fulmenio had hit Bones on had left a burn mark on her cheek. She retrieved a bit of burn salve and spread it over the woman's wound. A quick diagnostic spell revealed there were three more spots the curse had been intense enough to have left burn wounds, one of them in a rather intimate spot only another woman would usually be allowed to see. Bellatrix stripped the woman of her upper body robes, as well as the shirt and bra she wore underneath, and applied the salve there as well. Knowing the rest could for now only be healed with time, she redressed the woman (taking the time to hide a spare wand she'd nicked from one of the sleeping recruits in the lining of the right sleeve) and positioned her body so it lay as when Bellatrix had arrived. She left and closed and locked the door to the cell, leaving no apparent trace of her presence.

Potter, in contrast, was the most heavily tortured, and his wounds were clear to see, even from outside the cell. Bellatrix winced, immediately reliving the scene as she approached him. Cruciatus, near-drowning, forced Legilimency, multiple burning and cutting curses at various power levels, Fulmenio, Pyrites using a whip and assaulting Potter's back, a bludgeoning curse that broke his ribs... Potter's wounds were by far the most extensive, as Voldemort and Pyrites had taken out most of their ire on him. In fact, it had gone on for so long the clothes on his upper body were mere tatters, his pants were only hanging on by a belt that was cut halfway through, and his shoes and socks were missing. Bellatrix sighed and entered the cell. Potter was unconscious as well, but unlike Bones he'd just been tossed to the ground in his cell and left to rot.

There was no way she could heal it all. Potter's wounds were too severe for her to handle without Cissy's help, and Voldemort would become suspicious if his prisoners were suddenly at peak medical condition barely a day after being tortured this heavily. Unfortunately, the best Bellatrix could do was ensure he didn't suffer anything permanent. She thinly spread some Essence of Dittany over the various cuts and left it at that, trusting them to heal themselves over the course of the week rather than her healing them with more Dittany or healing charms near instantly. Next she spread burn salve over his burn wounds, and had to fetch Kreacher to resupply her twice with the stuff just so she covered every spot. She also fed him more of the same experimental nerve damage counter-agent she'd brought. She decided to leave the ribs broken, as having them healed would be too obvious an indicator there was a spy in their midst, although she did numb the pain. There was nothing she could do against the near-drowning or the Legilimency damage to his mind, though. Aunt Dorea or Cissy had to look at that.

Bellatrix bit her lip to keep herself from gasping, as she found his hand and read the words carved into his right hand. _I must not tell lies_. Clear and visible for all to see. And judging by the scarring around it quite old, too. His left shoulder and right arm were also covered in deep scars from his earlier travels, and Bellatrix wondered what the hell this boy had been up to on his travels.

One thing was for sure, though: if they kept being tortured like this, they would end up dead at the end of the week, Harry Potter especially. They needed to be rescued now, and Bellatrix sure as hell couldn't take them all with her. There were too many anti-portkey wards for her to break, and she wouldn't make out of the Manor before being caught if she tried to take them with her outside of said wards' range.

No, she needed to inform her grandfather and his comrades, so they could rescue Potter, Longbottom, and Bones.

And when they left, she would go with them. There was no way she could stay and stand there watching another public torturing session like that. She'd barely lasted the entire time, and only did so under silencing charms cast on herself and the mask she'd worn over her face. True, she'd tortured other people herself often enough, and much of the time she'd gotten carried away with her anger and tortured to the point the victim was on the edge of insanity. But that was nearly always purely for the information they possessed, and the few cases her victims went insane , which really only happened when her betrothed and his brother were present, were mistakes. But what Voldemort and Pyrites did...

If she wasn't scared these three would die without her, she'd have left hours ago.

After ensuring Harry once again lay as he had previously, Bellatrix drew her wand and cast a Patronus. "Potter and cohorts are at Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, the original Manor dungeons," she whispered. "You-Know-Who's base of operations. Dozens of followers present, including about a dozen Dementors, Dolohov, Pyrites, and Greyback. If attacking, ignore Manor itself: a death trap filled with followers, nothing of value. Head to lower levels for Bones, Longbottom, and Potter." Bellatrix paused, unsure what else she should order the raven to tell. "After this, I'm done with this mission. Can't stand much more."

Bellatrix then gave a final flick, and the Patronus flew off through the door and headed outside, heading towards her Grandfather, who she knew would by now be with his Potter friend at Hogwarts. Knowing there was nothing more she could do for Potter, she left the cell and locked it again. She didn't bother giving him a spare wand; his clothes were now in such poor condition and so tightly pressed on him the bulge of it would stand out immediately. Finally, she arrived at Longbottom's cell, and looked in once again to make a quick assessment of his condition. She frowned, though. The cell was empty.

He couldn't have gotten far: the Manor's security was too tight in that regard. Thinking quickly, she cast Homenum Revellio.

 _Ah. Think you're smart, huh? Hiding by keeping yourself pressed up in an alcove in the ceiling, so you can ambush us or sneak out later._ Bellatrix hated to admit it likely would've worked with most of the others. With a silent wave of her wand she opened the cell door, and jumped through, out of Longbottom's attack range and leaving her in the middle of the very spacious cell that could have comfortably fit ten people.

As Longbottom jumped down, Bellatrix whirled around and cast a spell, locking the door closed behind him. He turned to her with a feral snarl.

"Bellatrix Lestrange," he practically spat, and she winced at the venom in his voice. "Come to gloat at my fate, have you?"

She shook her head even as she mentally assessed his physical condition. Left arm bruised, Cruciatus and Fulmenio cast on him, various cuts on his chest as well as on his back, and a burn mark on his left shoulder.

Well, that and three distinct claw scars on his face, from the side of his mouth to his scalp. He'd gotten them when the Cruciatus had briefly been lifted on him, and he'd tried to resist and escape, but Greyback (the half-werewolf he was even without the full moon) had quickly slashed him with his claw-like hand and put him back under. It wasn't so disfiguring that he wasn't recognisable anymore, but it had to hurt like hell. He wasn't bitten, fortunately. In Voldemort's presence Greyback had more restraint than that. But scars left by werewolves still had some side effects: more moody during full moons and a taste for rare meats and steaks were among them. But still, he seemed to be able to stay on his feet and fight. Good.

"If I wanted to gloat, I could've just stayed outside the cell," she answered, before drawing the spare she'd recovered from her pocket. She lay it on the floor and with a shove rolled it to Longbottom. He frowned and approached it, but didn't pick it up.

"How do I know that wand isn't cursed?" he asked warily, trying to conceal his right hand. Likely trying to conceal either a devastating wound or, more likely, a weapon of some sort. Bellatrix sighed, as she reached with the hand not holding her wand into the pocket, looking for the remaining Dittany. "It isn't," she denied. "If it was, I could've just thrown it at you."

She was not surprised when Longbottom suddenly threw a rock at her head, which she banished away with her free wand hand with ease. Nor was she surprised when he started to rush her. Her hand finally found the bottle, and she got it out and spelled the pocket shut. She turned to look at Longbottom again.

Only to have a wolf slam into her. Surprised, she dropped the bottle, which fortunately didn't shatter and instead rolled until it was underneath the bunk bed Longbottom had occupied. She was slammed onto her back, and with one paw the wolf kept her wand arm pinned to the ground, while the other pressed to her opposite shoulder. He immediately tried to bite her, and she had to repeatedly duck her head aside while trying to push him away with her free arm to avoid the rather menacing-looking teeth.

After a bit of wiggling, she managed to get her legs under him, and kicked him off. He slammed against the bars of his door before collapsing to the ground, but quickly scurried to get up. Bellatrix did likewise, and hurriedly cast Petrificus Totalus. Anything worse, and she risked aggravating him or his injuries.

The spell missed, though, as the wolf jumped aside, landing by the wand she'd rolled his way. Immediately, the wolf started morphing into Longbottom, though the process took five seconds, and the boy grabbed the wand, before casting Stupefy at her. Bellatrix deftly dodged, and immediately cast another Petrificus Totalus.

The boy was good, for someone still in school: not only did he dodge, he used the momentum of his roll to cast three more spells. A Reducto, another stunner, and Penetro, the Longbottom family's Piercing Hex. Even as the dodged and shielded against them she grabbed her backup wand with her free hand and cast noise-cancelling, vibration-cancelling, and privacy wards to stop other people on other floors from finding out. Longbottom still left enough times between his hexes to do that.

He sent another Reducto at her, which she swiftly cast aside to the alcove above, where it was caved in so he couldn't hide there any longer. Then, when he was distracted by the gravel that came down from the hex, she cast a bodybind at him. This time, fortunately, it hit, and Longbottom's limbs snapped together and he fell down like a wooden plank. Bellatrix sighed, as she relaxed and put away her backup wand in her left sleeve. She walked over, and rolled him onto his stomach. She lifted his robes and shirt, and treated the burn mark on his shoulder with burn salve, and summoned the Dittany bottle again and used it to heal the remaining cuts. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw them receding rapidly, and lowered his shirt and robes again before rolling him onto his back. She got another pair of the nerve damage counter agent potions, and held them out in front of him.

"I'm planning on giving you these," she said. "A friend of mine at Saint Mungo's explained they help against nerve damage." At the hatred still clearly visible in his eyes, she rolled her own. "Look, I'm not going to poison you Longbottom. I'm trying to help you. I'm going to cancel the body bind on you in a few moments. Either you take the potions willingly, or I'll spell them into your mouth and force you to swallow."

She paused, realising that didn't come across as friendly as she'd hoped. She tried again. "Baron Black asked me to spy for him in his ranks, after I was inducted. I'm here to help you." She paused, and without warning decided to lift the body-bind. If he still tried to attack her, she was fast enough to always put him under another. He thumped to the ground, before he scrambled to his feet. He immediately picked up the wand as he did and put as much distance between them as he could in the confines of the cell, but fortunately didn't curse or attack her.

She smirked. "Told you that wand wasn't cursed."

Longbottom grumbled under his breath. Bellatrix sighed, before holding out the potions. He fortunately held out his hand, and she tossed them into it. He held them up for examination, and Bellatrix sat down on the bunk and waited patiently. He wouldn't be able to distinguish the potion by sight anyway, and if it earned his trust to let him do this, so be it.

"Fair warning," Bellatrix said. "Tastes like Skelegrow."

Longbottom's frown, contrary to what she thought possible, grew even deeper, and he lowered the vial. "Why the hell should I drink it then?"

"Do you really want to risk the nerve damage?" Bellatrix challenged.

"How do I know if it isn't a type of poison or something?" he countered. "I'm in Death Eater HQ, surrounded by Death Eaters, and you suddenly show up to help me, after..." He paused, and Bellatrix frowned as he trailed off. But he quickly revised, raising his wand. "when as far as I know you're a Death Eater too? Why the hell should I trust anything you say or do?"

She had to admit Longbottom had her there. To the rest of the world she was still a Death Eater, and given the importance of her role as a spy no one outside the original Rascals would be informed. She needed to do something that showed him she could be trusted.

Without hesitation, she raised her wand. Neville immediately raised his as well when she did, but Bellatrix continued to raise it until it was pointed at the roof while the wand was at chest height. "I, Bellatrix Walburga Black," she scowled, hating her middle name for whom she shared it with. If she ever married, she swore she'd change it along with her surname. "Vow I have no intention to injure, poison, or otherwise bring harm to Neville Longbottom, Amelia Bones, or Harry Potter, and that my true allegiance lies with Baron Arcturus Cygnus Black the Third, and the Great Alliance he formed with Baron Charlus Jonathan Potter. So have I sworn, so mote it be." Her wand briefly lit up as she made the vow, before dimming again. She looked at Neville, who was staring at her win a gobsmacked expression.

"There. Happy?" she asked. Longbottom nodded, though she saw it was with great reluctance, and he lowered his wand until it hung near his hip with his hand. He unstoppered the vial, grimaced, and downed the potion in one gulp. He almost retched afterwards, and she quickly conjured a bucket for him. When he managed to hold it in, though, she transfigured that into a large cup, and filled it with water.

"For the taste," she said, handing it to him. He gratefully took it, and swallowed it all in one gulp, before sitting down on the bunk.

"You healed up Harry and Bones, too?" Neville asked.

"As well as I could without giving away Voldemort has a spy in his ranks," Bellatrix affirmed. "Harry's ribs are still broken, since healing them would be too obvious. But most of his other injuries are healed or busy healing. Same for Bones."

Longbottom nodded in thanks, though it seemed even that was done with great reluctance. Almost as if he believed her to be the most evil thing in the world, and couldn't process the fact she'd done something good. Bellatrix tilted her head curiously. Why did he have that feeling about her already? She'd never met either the boy or the Longbottom families, having made a point to mostly steer clear of the other Great Alliance families whenever she could since joining the Death Eaters. So why was he so hostile to her?

"You good to go?" Bellatrix asked, trying to distract herself. There was no point lamenting it now, when she was somewhere she shouldn't be and had every chance of getting caught. "Or need something else healed that I missed?"

If anything, this made Longbottom frown even more, intriguing her. Before she could ask, though, he shook his head. "I can stand whatever you missed, thanks. Besides, they'll notice if you treat me even more."

Bellatrix nodded, and rose from her seat on the bunk. "Keep that," she said, as she saw Longbottom eye the wand while she strode for the door. "Might give you the element of surprise when we get out."

"When we get out?" Longbottom asked, as he fortunately decided to obey and tried to hide it in the inwardly rolled up sleeve of his robe.

"You'll see," Bellatrix teased, as she opened the door and stepped through. "Fair warning, though: if they respond as well as I suspect, and given it's our fathers and grandfathers they likely will, it'll be a blast."

Longbottom's frown never left his face, and Bellatrix mulled that over as she locked the cell and left him there. What the heck had she done to earn his ire? He seemed... it was almost as if he hated her for something done long ago. But what could that be? Even as children, they'd never met. So why the grudge?

She groaned as she passed (and obliviated) the guards, and headed back up. If she wanted this mystery solved, she needed more information. And that meant getting him and the others out of here.

* * *

 _ **Entrance Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands**_

Charlus stormed up the steps and entered the hall, as he made his way to Dumbledore's office that afternoon after the cleanup at Hogsmeade village. How had the old fool allowed this to happen? Surely after the attack on the ministry at the start of the year he would've realised that it would be unsafe for students to travel to Hogsmeade without protection, or at all. The least he should've done was assign more professors to protect the students, or called in the Auror department for support, or call off the weekend entirely. That would be the wiser choice.

Ok; Charlus admitted it wasn't Dumbledore's fault they were kidnapped. The Headmaster had in fact responded very well, immediately calling the remaining carriages back as soon as the one had been attacked, and the DADA Professor and a handful of students, including Luna herself, one of the occupants of said carriages, had tried to reach them. Dumbledore had even taken the trouble of flaming over himself with his phoenix, but by the time he'd arrived the students had already been taken, and the Death Eaters had disapparated or Portkeyed away with their wounded before any could've been captured and identified.

The rest of the prominent members of the Great Alliance (including Fleamont, Hector, Arcturus, Deckard and Seraphina, Hyperion, and Anamaria Shacklebolt as the Auror on the case) were right behind him, either to rage at the headmaster themselves or to keep those raging in check. Which was a good thing, considering if either Baron raged in a room without at least two people there to keep him in check, the room had a tendency of being uninhabitable afterwards.

The Dumbledore clearly expected them, for the Gargoyle guarding his office immediately jumped aside when they approached, and the door was already open when they ascended the staircase. Dumbledore wasn't alone, though: Minerva, a good friend of Dorea back during their Hogwarts days, was there, as were Aurors Nick Proudfoot and Alastor Moody, the latter now walking on a peg-leg and a staff. They all stood in front of Dumbledore at the man's desk, all looking at a map. He must really want their cooperation, for the overly-controlling coot didn't even roll up the map as they approached.

"Please tell me you already have people looking for them," Deckard angrily demanded. "Or so help me, I'll tear up every magical location in Europe until I find my daughter."

"All that'll do is get you killed, Bones," Moody groused, though his tone was less harsh than usual. He then turned his head to Shacklebolt, the last one entering. "We've already sent out to what remains of the Aurors, Ma'am Shacklebolt, as well as informed the Minister of the situation. She'll do everything she can to get them back."

Charlus sincerely doubted this. Bagnold might know a bit about handling the public, but she was just as corrupt as that fool from Magical Maintenance, Cornelius Fudge. If a Death Eater bought her off to not look too closely at the kidnappings, nothing would happen from the ministry's end.

"And by the time they find her, she'll be six feet under." Seraphina waspishly retorted. "That's my niece at stake, Moody!"

"As well as my younger son and Potter's," Hector added, showing his own anger and dismay that this had happened practically right under Dumbledore's nose. His office had a window view of the village and the road to it, for Merlin's sake. "I sincerely hope for your sake you can offer more than weak assurances, Alastor."

"Let's not get into a fight here." Dumbledore interjected before Moody could get into a fight he couldn't win with the Bones twins and Hector. "We do have a few facts." He turned to Charlus. "We know for certain that Dolohov was involved, as young James himself, as well as Professor Clarke, managed to identify him and Tyranus Pyrites before they took younger Misters Potter, Longbottom, and Ms Bones."

"Any other leads?" Shacklebolt asked before things could get out of hand, and Charlus sent her a silent _thank you_ look. Out of all of them, Anamaria was the most impartial, and at the moment the most level-headed. She'd never met any of the children before, and at the moment could act as an Auror without any stakes, something Proudfoot and Moody (suspected and confirmed members of the Order of the Phoenix, respectively) couldn't do. Neither could Hector, Deckard, or Seraphina, each of whom had Auror experience. Since it was their children's lives on the line they sure as hell couldn't act impartially. It was only the fact that as the head of the alliance (alongside Arcturus) he had to appear levelheaded and controlled (even if he wasn't) that kept him from shouting at Dumbledore at the moment despite his rage.

Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't make his anger known in other ways. "Considering his _excellent_ job of protecting the students, I sincerely doubt he has found anything."

"I shall have you know, Baron Potter," Dumbledore responded with a frown, "that there are traces of various chemicals on the carriage and the place it was blasted from. My suspicion would be that the carriage was coated in one chemical that was meant to respond to another, likely coated at the site of the accident, in a violent and concussive manner. The fact there was only a small explosion and very little charring on the carriage itself, and yet the carriage was blasted half a kilometre away and a lot of structural damage to the interior supports this."

"All well and good, Dumbledore," Arcturus retorted. "But none of this conjecture points us to where the children have been taken, does it?"

Dumbledore gave him a long, hard stare, and Arcturus stared right back. Were it not for the fact Arcturus was a well-known master of Occlumency, Charlus would've started to think Dumbledore was invading the man's mind they were staring so hard. Finally, though, the Hogwarts Headmaster relented.

"Would everyone except Alastor and the Barons please leave this room?" he asked. "I need to impart information of a sensitive nature that only very few may hear." He gave a hard stare at the other Aurors and the Headmaster portraits. The latter nodded respectfully and left their frames to head for the others, while the Aurors nodded in understanding and headed for the door. The others looked reluctant to leave, either because they wanted to rant some more at Dumbledore or to listen in on the information, but they all left as well, Hector sending a glare before he closed the door behind him and Minerva.

Dumbledore spoke as soon as the latch clicked. "Now, as Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, I can't officially tell you anything. It would be my duty to warn you against taking reprising actions against families suspected to be aligned with Lord Voldemort." All others in the room still subconsciously flinched despite their efforts not to. "It could lead to extensive sanctions against the Great Alliance by the Ministry if you did."

"You think we care?" Arcturus demanded, his own anger coming to the surface. He swung the cane he'd taken to carrying around onto the table, and it made a resounding thud on the desk as it landed in a small gap between the dozens of parchment pieces lying there. "You think we-"

" _Unofficially_ ," Dumbledore continued, silencing Arcturus. "As leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I can offer a few hints in the right direction."

"Hints?" Charlus asked angrily. _The old man was expecting them to find out about where Harry was with_ _ **HINTS**_ _?! They might as well sign their lives over to Voldemort right now!_

"As you yourself have stated many times, Charlus, I am not omniscient." Dumbledore retorted angrily, losing his composure. "I wish I could offer more, but the members of the order are few and occupied, and my informant was lucky to overhear this at all in the first place."

Charlus sighed, realising the man had a point. "All right. Let's hear it."

Dumbledore nodded, and drew their attention back to one of the pieces of parchment on the map, coincidentally right next to where the cane had landed earlier. It was a map of England's eastern region. A town called Little Hangleton was encircled. "This town's richest family used to be the Riddle family," Dumbledore explained, and the Barons shared knowing glances. "They had a Manor on the outskirts of the town. Its occupants were murdered many years ago, but I suspect Lord Voldemort," again an involuntary flinch from Moody, Arcturus, and Charlus, "has been using it as a base of operations."

"You're sure?" Arcturus asked. "For all we know it could be a wild goose chase."

"We're quite certain," Moody confirmed. "We, that is Dumbledore and I, suspect the Death Eaters are using it as such a base because of how many pass through that place every few hours. Tracking charms dissolve upon entering it, and there have been quite a few Dementor sightings nearby." Dumbledore gained a slight twinkle in his eye as this was said. "Also, the fact we cannot confirm this suspicion aloud lends proof to my theory."

Charlus frowned, trying to say all these clues all but confirmed the place was their Headquarters. To his surprise, though, he found he couldn't. And when he realised he couldn't form the words, he realised why. The same reason few people now knew the Great Alliance regularly gathered in Potter Manor, and why only Harry could say Ron and Ginny's real names out loud.

A Fidelius. Clever.

Arcturus spoke up, his expression showing he'd followed the same line of thought. "I see. And you want us, the Great Alliance, to do your dirty work for you." _Like with Grindelwald's armies_ Charlus heard him think silently.

"I wish I could go there myself, Baron Black," Dumbledore said, incensed. "But unlike some in this room, I do not have relatives already in place, or a ready-made army willing to follow me into that place. My Order doesn't have as many members as your Alliance has, and most of them aren't trained to fight, and would only be a hindrance."

Arcturus growled at the sour subject of his relatives in Voldemort's ranks and made to raise his wand, but Charlus stopped him with a single look. He then turned it to Dumbledore. "Thank you for this information, Dumbledore. We'll be sure to put it to good use."

Dumbledore nodded, and with a single gesture the door reopened. "You're welcome, Barons Potter and Black. I hope you find the children alive and mostly unharmed."

"So do we," Charlus said. "Good day, Headmaster." And with that, he forced Arcturus out the door and closed it behind him.

"Why did you stop me?" Arcturus demanded as they descended the stairs, the cane loudly hitting each step as they descended the stairs. "He deserved to be hexed and you know it."

"At that moment all it would've done was satisfy your lust for his blood," Charlus explained, as they reached the bottom where everyone (minus Proudfoot and Minerva) was waiting for them. "It wouldn't do to hex the Hogwarts headmaster in his own office after he just offered us the possible location of the children."

"Where!?" Hector and Deckard all but demanded at the same time.

Before Charlus could answer, a bit of silver light caught his eye, and he turned around to look at it. A silver raven flew down through an open window, and landed in the middle of the small gathering that had formed at the bottom of the stairs. It opened its beak and spoke resonantly so all present could hear it.

"Potter and cohorts are at Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, the original Manor dungeons," the raven spoke with the voice of Arcturus's granddaughter, Bellatrix. "You-Know-Who's base of operations. Dozens of followers present, including about a dozen Dementors, Dolohov, Pyrites, and Greyback. If attacking, ignore Manor itself: a death trap filled with followers, nothing of value. Head to lower levels for Bones, Longbottom, and Potter." The Patronus paused, as if unsure what else to tell. "After this, I'm done with this mission. Can't stand much more."

With its message delivered, the bright raven dissolved into a cloudy mist, before that dissipated, too. Charlus turned resolutely to the others. It was time to take charge. They had children to rescue.

"Anamaria, Fleamont: gather as many people as you can in the next five hours. Both Bones: gather as many brooms for them as you can provide. High quality if possible, but don't discriminate against lower quality if that's what's available. Hector, Hyperion: head for Little Hangleton Town Hall and get copies of the old blueprints of the manor. At eighteen twenty Arcturus and I will will have a briefing for you, and we'll head out an hour after that."

Everyone nodded, and those not assigned a mission followed Charlus and Arcturus while they strode out, and the others all headed their own ways to prepare for their mission. While they walked, plans were already forming in his head on how he was going to assault Riddle Manor. He smirked in reminiscence. With the many similarities, he couldn't help but think it was the war with Grindelwald all over again. And he'd won that one, too.

* * *

 _ **Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England**_

Harry grunted, as he was thrown to the ground in front of Voldemort the next morning. He didn't land as hard as he could've, thanks to his miraculously healed wounds, but his chest still hurt upon landing, and he had to wheeze a few times before he could get up again. He looked to his right, and saw Neville land right beside him. Another thud to his left indicated Amelia had landed as well. As was the case yesterday (at least he'd been told it had been yesterday), he was in the large hall occupied by dozens of Death Eater followers. He grimaced as he looked at the crowd again. It must've been full moon, for despite the extremely early morning there were quite a few werewolves still turned in the crowd, only held back by stasis charms or body-binds. And even those were glaring at him. They were led by a very large and dominant one the size of a bear, which Harry presumed to be Greyback.

"Ah, Harry," Voldemort spoke, drawing Harry's attention back to the throne. "How happy to see you've made it."

"Not like I had a choice," Harry spat, making Voldemort chuckle.

"No," Voldemort agreed. "You don't have a choice. Yesterday I granted you a small reprieve from interrogation for revealing some of the information you have. But now, with a new day, we shall begin anew."

Harry grimaced, knowing what was coming. Voldemort gestured with his hand and lifted his body up, magically pinning his head so Harry was forced to look him in the eye. Instantly, he felt the forced pressure of Legilimency in his head. He tried to keep the blackness he'd restored only just this morning, and desperately tried to cover up the openings Voldemort tried to create. But Voldemort had been a master Legilimens for decades, proficient in the art at the age of fifteen, while Harry had only three or four months of real practice. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort broke through. And so, like yesterday, Voldemort broke through, and had instant access to his memories. He immediately began searching for anything of value.

Harry immediately tried stuffing useless memories in Voldemort's face. Harry at age seven rifling through Petunia and Vernon's papers, him and Ron playing Wizard's chess at the Burrow, the twins pulling another fantastic prank on Percy, the only time he'd had a visit to Hermione's parents when Petunia forced him and Dudley to go to the dentists, and them picking the Granger/Beckett clinic, them walking towards the Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup...

But still, Voldemort was once again faster one time. And once again, Harry seriously dreaded him finding this one. Him and Amelia, talking together at the party after Gryffindor won from Slytherin, after she showed up a few minutes later with her brother. Her, telling him how she looked forward to their meeting at Hogsmeade, and them laughing and relaxing together the more the night wore on. It immediately shifted again, to another he didn't want Voldemort to find. The partial memory of the chamber, from Voldemort arriving in the Chamber to him cursing the Basilisk... Including the first of the two spells.

Voldemort pulled back out once more, but instead of shock, seemed truly dismayed and angered. "How did you get that memory, boy?!" he demanded, and the nearest of Death Eaters immediately flinched back a few steps against his tone. "I was the only one there, boy! How did you get it?!"

Harry chuckled, looking Voldemort right in the eye again. "You're the oh-so-powerful one. and yet _you're_ asking _me_?" When Voldemort continued glaring at him in anger, for a moment too caught up in it to respond, he continued the taunt. "I'll tell you only this: for years, your mind wasn't your own as much as you'd like to think," Harry taunted, thinking of the many visions and pains he'd had because of the Horcrux in his head. Voldemort snarled, and raised his wand to curse again. When he smirked.

Harry's stomach dropped, and although he kept a neutral expression, his heart started beating as if it was running a car. Harry had seen him smirk like that only a handful of times before, nearly all of them in this new time... And all of those only when he got a new idea on how to torture Harry. It was a predatory smirk, like a lunatic who'd just heard the most insane joke of his life.

"Amycus, retrieve their wands for me." Lord Voldemort commanded. The Death Eater in question immediately made his way to the exit. But another stepped forward and immediately voiced concerns. "But, my Lord... Is it truly wise to give them their wands? They could-"

Lord Voldemort immediately turned to the Death Eater, and he immediately silenced himself falling to his knees and bowing down. And although his expression wasn't visible to Harry from this angle, he knew from the tone of voice that followed it was angry.

"Do you really think they could harm me, Harper? Me, Lord Voldemort, Leader of the Death Eater armies? The Heir of Salazar Slytherin himself? The conqueror of the Wraiths of Albania? The Master of Dementors? Sole inheritor of the Founder's legacy?!"

"My Lord," The Death Eater began to beg. "I meant no-"

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort yelled, and one large green flash later the Death Eater was dead at Voldemort's feet. Voldemort gave a simple flick of his wand, and the body was thrown to the Werewolf pack, who immediately were let go to tear it to pieces. He turned back to Harry, as Amycus came walking back in with seven wands in hand, which he laid at Lord Voldemort's feet before he returned back to the circle of Death Eaters. As soon as he did, he felt the enchantments that kept him like that dispel, and he fell down. Amelia and Neville were likewise freed, and all three scrambled to retrieve their wands. Harry instantly pocketed those of the future Mulciber and Nott, before levelling his own at Voldemort.

"Now, Harry." He said calmly, as if he was starting a conversation at a picnic instead of just having killed someone and thrown his body to a pack of savage beasts. "Since you enjoyed that memory so much..." He said with a smile that Harry knew meant there was big trouble ahead, "I think you should have a taste." Voldemort levelled his wand, and Harry bent his knees, ready to dodge at a moment's notice.

Only for the wand to immediately move to Harry's left, before he heard Voldemort whisper a single curse. One that left Harry's blood running cold.

"Insaniam Convertunt." Voldemort said clearly, as the spell flew to Amelia and hit her in the chest before she could move.

Harry's eyes widened in horror as Amelia grabbed her head in pain, and she fell to her knees while screaming her lungs out. Harry immediately took a few hesitant steps forward.

"Fight it, Amelia," he urged her, knowing it was his only shot at getting through to her. "You can resist this."

Voldemort cackled happily. "It's no use, Potter. Once under the curse she'll only respond to me." Voldemort grinned when Amelia finally stopped grunting in pain, and let her head go as she rose to her feet. Harry paled at the blank look in her eyes: there was no emotion there whatsoever. She didn't seem to recognise him as she looked at him.

The curse had taken full effect.

"Now, Potter, you must choose." Voldemort grinned. "Live, at the cost of killing the girl you love. Or die, and let her strike you down. All while your friend is forced to watch on."

"Harry?" Neville whispered nervously. "What's he- UGH!" That was as far as he got before Karkaroff punched him in the stomach, then he was put under a body-bind curse and dragged to the sidelines, forced to merely watch the upcoming event instead of helping either side.

"Amelia Bones," Voldemort spoke with a commanding voice, and Harry immediately backed away and took some distance, knowing it was useless to reason with her now. Instead, as most of his mind focused on the memory of the basilisk being turned insane. He knew that in the same conversation Insaniam Convertunt was mentioned, the counter curse was mentioned too. Something only cast in Parseltongue. But what _was_ it?

"...kill Harry Potter." Voldemort finished his command. "And make him suffer while you do so."

Amelia wasted no time. Immediately she sprang into action, casting multiple unknown brown-coloured curses which Harry immediately rolled out of the way of. Next he cast a shield, as a bone-breaking curse almost hit his face. _Come on, what was the curse?_

His eyes widened, as she next whispered the killing curse, and he stood frozen in fear for a moment as he saw a green light emerge from the wand. Then, the scenery changed before his eyes, and he wasn't in the halls of Voldemort's lair, with Neville at his side. Instead, all he saw was the Graveyard. Wormtail, with his new silver hand. Lucius Malfoy and the remaining Death Eaters, laughing and cackling on as their master fought Harry. Voldemort, casting another Killing curse at Harry over his father's grave.

And Cedric.

The pale, empty eyes of Cedric staring up at him, as his dead body lay at Harry's feet.

 _Kill the spare_. The words kept echoing in his head. _Kill the spare. Kill the spare. Kill the spare._

Harry fell down, dodging the killing curse at the last second, and rolling aside as another was cast at him. And another. And another. Finally he scampered to his feet, and instinctively conjured a brick wall a bare foot in front of the curse. The curse hit the wall instead, shattering it and covering his opponent in debris.

The pain of the memory was too much for him, and overrode all rational thought. Cedric was dead because of _him_. His parents were dead because they'd sacrificed themselves for _him_. His friends had been endangered at the Ministry because of _him_. All because they trusted him, needed to protect him with their lives. From that _Monster_!

Harry launched another stunner, his heart racing as he for all intents and purposes relived his worst nightmare, only with a larger spell repertoire. But Voldemort rolled out of the way, scraping his back over the rocks from the destroyed wall. Harry didn't waste his time, and cast an exploding curse at his feet. Voldemort didn't shield or dodge in time, and was sent flying. He landed with a thud and he didn't get up.

Yet somehow, he still spoke. "Yes, Harry. That's it. Kill her."

"Harry!" Neville's voice echoed, despite the fact he was not supposed to be there, as he was in the stands watching the third task. "Whatever spell you're under, get rid of it! It's messing with your mind!"

Harry shook his head, despite the screaming from Neville that followed. He knew he could trust Neville's voice. He'd always stood by Harry's side, no matter what. He didn't join the crowd when they denounced him as Slytherin's heir. He had the decency not to whisper about facts like Sirius being his godfather and a betrayer behind Harry's back when Sirius had just broken out of Azkaban. He believed Harry instantly when he said he didn't put his name in the goblet of fire, and didn't wear one of those badges Malfoy kept handing out. He was one of the first to sign up for the DA, and always trained the hardest, especially after he heard Bellatrix Lestrange had broken out of Azkaban. He was one of five that followed Harry into the ministry to rescue Sirius, the only one to do so without question, and he didn't even know what was going on. Hell, for all he knew Sirius was still a wanted man and the betrayer of the Potters!

Harry realised with a start that Neville was just as good a friend as Ron and Hermione. A better one even, considering Ron had basically left him to rot between his name coming out of the goblet and the first task, or Hermione ignoring them after that incident with the Firebolt and Scabbers. Neville, despite the fact Harry was a crappy friend, had never stopped being there for Harry.

And with that realisation, the scenery turned back. He wasn't in the graveyard, but in an underground hall. Cedric didn't lay at his dead feet, but Neville was being held up by Karkaroff and another, blood leaking from a split lip. Wormtail was instead Voldemort, watching from a distance as Harry had duelled.

And the Voldemort on the ground was the unconscious form of Amelia Bones.

 _"This is a fun one, Insaniam Convertunt._ " The memory of a young Voldemort's voice echoed in his head. " _It drives the victim insane."_

Harry calmly strode over to Amelia, and Neville, Voldemort, and the crowd watched, all of them interested in what Harry would do.

 _"Not to the point they lose their minds, however. It merely robs them of their free will and identity."_

Harry arrived at her body, and gently tapped her body with his toes. She was still unconscious. He felt a slight pain starting in his chest, the adrenaline from the duel and the stress of the situation flooding away to be replaced by the pain of broken ribs.

 _"You can still act independently, but you will no longer have any wishes and desires of your own, forever doomed to obey the orders of others."_

Harry raised his wand at her, and Voldemort grinned. Neville shouted out in horror. "NOOOO! Harry, don't do this!"

 _"And the only known counter, Mens Videre Receptos, can only be spoken in Parseltongue."_

" _Mens Videre Receptos_." Harry said in perfect Parseltongue, and a white curse sailed from his wand, to hit Amelia on her head. She immediately regained consciousness, her eyes shooting up to stare at him. He held his breath, hoping it had worked.

Amelia, slowly and shaking, got to her feet, her wand still in hand. Harry risked a glance at Voldemort, who was no longer smiling.

Before anyone could act, though, there was a loud crack that sounded very similar to a blast of Vinnie's fireworks going off close by, or thunder hitting the ground right next to you: near deafening. Voldemort immediately looked up.

"The Wardstone has been broken," Voldemort whispered. He immediately put Harry, Amelia, and Neville in body-binds and turned to the crowd, giving orders. "Carrows, guard them with your lives. Everyone else, head upstairs with me, and find out what this disturbance is. NOW!"

The crowd hastened to reply, and they all scampered to the exit at the back. Voldemort himself had gotten barely three steps, though, before the ground shook as if hit by a massive earthquake, and everyone fell to the ground. Harry would have hissed once more if he didn't have a body-bind, as his ribs hit the stone ground quite hard.

"Potter!" A loud yet slightly muffled voice called from upstairs as everyone got up from the ground, the unknown Death Eater's voice amplified by a very strong Sonorous. "Black! Lay down your wands and surrender!"

For a moment no one moved in the silence, and one could hear a pin drop. Then, an ear-splitting scream so loud and filled with agony Harry almost retched into his mouth on the spot echoed throughout the halls.

"DEATH EATERS!" His grandfa- no, his _father's_ voice answered in a loud yell. "COME AND GET THEM!"

That was answered by more shouts from above, and Harry worried as they seemed to be in the dozens. But they almost immediately turned into screams, first one, then another, then another, then four more... All turned into death throes.

Voldemort snarled. "My orders haven't changed."

The others in the room immediately continued and hurried up the stairs, eager to comply and get their own piece of Potter.

Until in the end, only Harry, Neville, Amelia, and the Carrows were left in the large hall with the throne. One of them conjured a stone pillar, and leaned against it as he watched them, while the other moved to guard the exit, their backs turned to one another.

Harry didn't know how long they stood there; from his senses it could've been hours as well as minutes, time marked only occasionally by the shouts from outside and the rumbles that shook the manor and its foundations and lower levels. But after a while one of the Carrows spoke up. "What are you doing here, Les-"

That was as far as the woman got before a choking sound was heard. The other Carrow turned around in concern, and almost immediately hurried to his sister. Harry heard him immediately attempt to shout out a Cruciatus curse, but barely got past the first U before he was flung backwards at the speed of a firebolt, breaking through the pillar and the stone throne before impacting against the stone wall, leaving nothing but a large bloody spot on it with a few mangled splintered bones sticking out here and there.

A second later the body-bind was lifted. Harry immediately scrambled to get up, and Amelia did likewise, helping Neville to his feet shortly after. Harry turned around, about to thank his rescuer.

And raised his wand with a hateful look, as Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him. Amelia covered his flank almost instantly.

To his shock, though, it was _Neville_ who stood between them and her.

"Harry, don't!" he urged. "She's the one who healed most of our wounds last night. She gave a vow to help us. She can be trusted not to harm us." Harry heard the unsaid _as much as I hate to acknowledge it_ that was in his voice and expression. Still, Harry knew he trusted Neville with his life, especially after that realisation how often he was there for Harry and Harry didn't see it. And besides, the woman had practically tortured Neville's parents into insanity, so if he defended her there had to be a _very_ good reason for it. He lowered his wand, and pushed Amelia's down as well, trusting Neville's judgement.

That didn't mean he trusted her, though. "Betray us, and I'll kill you," he snarled. He remembered very vividly that she'd tortured Neville's parents into insanity at one point, and had taunted him about his godfather in a sickening way.

Bellatrix, in contrast to the seriousness of the threat, simply shrugged. "Get in line. After this every Death Eater will be out to kill me anyway."

Harry nodded, and gestured to the exit. "Lead the way."

Bellatrix nodded, but instead went to the back of the room. "Voldemort had multiple hideout chambers and hidden emergency exits built in these catacombs, just in case someone managed to breach the lower levels of the catacombs." She reached the back wall, and pressed the bricks next to the splatter that was one of the Carrows in quick succession. "All of them will lead right outside."

"Into the battlefield," Amelia noted, as they all followed her. After a few moments, that section of the wall pulled back slightly and lifted into the ceiling, revealing a previously hidden tunnel right next to the splatter. They all headed in, Harry ensuring he'd be last.

"Yes," Bellatrix admitted. "But most of the anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards went down when something destroyed the manor's central Wardstone. All that are left are hastily erected and improvised wards created by the perimeter guards. If we can get out of and away from the manor far enough I can Portkey us out to Black Manor at the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland."

Harry nodded in consent, and she led them down the tunnel, which actually started to curve upwards. Fortunately, they met little resistance, and only had to stop once when a section collapsed right behind them.

It wasn't long until they arrived at a large circular chamber, with a round door with light leaking through being the only way out.

"That leads to a side road into Little Hangleton." Bellatrix said. "We can safely portkey to the manor from there."

Harry nodded, and hesitantly made a few steps forward.

And immediately ducked to the side as a curse sailed towards him. The other three also jumped to the side, and Amelia and Bellatrix each conjured pieces of cover to hide behind for them. Harry crouched down next to Amelia, while Neville scampered to rest beside Bellatrix two dozen meters away. Harry peeked over his cover, eying the exit.

From niches in the ceiling he'd missed when inspecting the chamber six Death Eaters jumped down, four in full regalia, two in ministry robes. He recognised one of them, to his loathing, as Barty Crouch Junior.

Harry got up alongside Amelia, both of them launching hexes at them. Three of them, the other in ministry robes and two Death Eaters, parted from their comrades to duel them, while the remainder headed straight for Bellatrix.

* * *

 _ **Five seconds later**_

Neville ducked under a Cruciatus, and launched a retaliatory attack in response. The Piercing hex missed, though, and only tore out a chunk of the wall. The next curse Neville sent, through, had some good effect. The Flipendo floored him, and the mask was sent flying.

Neville paled as he recognised Rabastan Lestrange. And beside him came Barty Crouch, who began teaming up to take him down. Neville's movements became more hurried, his shields faltering the more they hexed. Try as Neville might, the two were much more experienced than him, and quite a bit faster.

A hex hit him on his cheek, and he screamed as he fell down, the right side of his face flaming in pain. Before he could recover he was rolled onto his back, and he went cross-eyed as he saw a wand pointed right between them.

"Goodbye, little shit," Barty said, and the tip of his wand glowed green as he prepared to cast a killing curse, Rabastan smirking in the background.

Someone crashed into Barty, and he and Rabastan went down as their assailant hit him as well. The assailant immediately rolled to her feet, revealing herself to be...

Neville shook his head in shock, despite the pain. No way. It couldn't be. There was no way in hell Bellatrix Lestrange, the same woman Lady Dorea Potter had killed, had saved his life. Yet it was that way, despite all appearances, as she began to duel an unmasked Rabastan and Rudolphus as well as Barty. And he also saw she deliberately kept herself between Neville and the three Death Eaters.

He stared for a moment in shock, as one of his childhood tormentors defended him against the remaining three, her wand lightning-fast as it sent curse after curse at them, deliberately not dodging and only shielding so a stray miss wouldn't accidentally hit Neville.

Bellatrix Lestrange was fighting for her life to defend Neville Longbottom, who not four months ago had tormented Neville with her mock-baby voice about the fate of his parents.

He realised now they weren't the same, this woman in front of him and the one that had tortured his parents The woman who'd tortured them into insanity would take every chance she got to take Neville down, and would mock him for what had happened to his parents. Yet this woman was kind and caring, and fought at risk of her own life to defend a stranger.

The former Neville would kill in a heartbeat. The latter Neville thought should be worthy of being defended to his last breath, regardless of past mistakes.

while a curse finally broke through her shield and upended her, sending her wand flying, he turned into his Animagus wolf form (the time it took to transform having greatly decreased since his first full moon with Remus due to frequent practice at night) and attacked the closest, who happened to be Rabastan. The man looked up in surprise, as open jaws sailed to his face. Neville bit down, and Rabastan screamed as Neville's teeth found the man's shoulder. Neville tasted blood, and bit down even harder. He let go and turned back almost instantly, dodging a curse from Rudolphus. He sent a stunner at both him and Barty Crouch, forcing both of them to dodge, while grabbing Bellatrix's wand from the ground and tossed it to her as she got up, which she caught instantly. After a moment of consideration he also tossed her the future Bellatrix' wand, which she also caught, while Neville stole the shocked Rabastan's wand to replace it.

Rabastan, still in pain and shock at having a wolf tear his shoulder apart, didn't react, and Neville sent a piercing hex at the man's heart, like he'd done with him in Potter Manor. Rabastan's eyes widened, and Neville grabbed him by his collar and dragged him so they looked one another in the eye.

"That was for my parents, you son of a bitch," Neville snarled, before tossing him to the ground. The man continued to lay there, letting out one final breath before expiring. Neville turned, and was happy to see Bellatrix had the other Lestrange brother and Barty already on the ropes, Barty bleeding heavily from a cut on his arm while Rudolphus' leg was bent at such an angle that left no doubt it was broken as he was supported by his comrade.

Neville helped Bellatrix as she cast with both her wands, and was briefly startled to see she wielded both of them in her right hand, rather than one in each. His confusion ended when she spoke the incantation of Reducto, and two spells launched, both hitting Barty's wand arm. He screamed, as his arm was literally pulverised below the elbow. Neville sent another piercing hex at him, but Barty fell down in pain, hitting his head and falling unconscious. Rudolphus, losing his support, also fell, and Bellatrix stunned him before he could perform another curse. Neville turned around to help Harry and Bones, as they were dealing with the remaining three, but it wasn't necessary. Two of them were stunned and tied up against each other's backs, and the third was already being dealt with, Harry and Bones actually teaming up in physically beating the corrupt ministry official to a pulp. In the end, Harry lifted the man up, while Bones cast a very strong banishing charm, which sent him flying back into his niche. A Reducto from both Harry and Bones made it collapse onto him, burying him alive.

Bellatrix's chest heaved a bit from the exertion, but otherwise she seemed all right. He made a brief inspection of himself, but aside from the burn wound blistering on his cheek he was all right as well. Harry and Bones likewise seemed more or less in one piece. Harry immediately clutched his sides, though, and he wheezed a bit as he leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. Bones was immediately by his side in concern.

"Harry!" she said in a high voice which spoke of her fear. "You all right?"

"Ribs," he wheezed. Bellatrix immediately understood, and performed a diagnostic charm before swearing.

"Step aside," she ordered. "I need space to heal him."

Bones reluctantly took some distance, and Bellatrix set to work, casting spells almost immediately. Harry immediately gasped in pain, and Bones went directly for her wand. Neville stopped her, though, just as Bellatrix conjured some bandages. Harry's pained look instantly lifted as well.

"Thanks," Harry managed, and was helped to his feet by Bellatrix.

"That should hold you until you can see a proper healer," Bellatrix reassured. "It's the best I can manage without risking your inner organs."

"It'll do," Neville said for Harry. "Thank you."

Bellatrix glowed under the praise, but her face soon turned solemn. "That won't be the last of them. We need to keep moving."

They all nodded in agreement, and Neville opened the door with a silent Alohomora. They all moved through it. Only for them to stop instantly.

A massive battle was raging outside in the early morning in the full moon, dawn yet to arrive. The manor, now partly ablaze, could be seen right before them, and hexes were thrown at it by people in front of it, and spellfire was returned from the upper windows. The werewolves were all battling with large groups of armoured men with spears and swords, the wolves too close for good wand work. Greyback's werewolf form itself was fighting a large, black bear that was just as large as it, both of them covered in large cuts and claw marks. A dozen silver glows floated around the battlefield and the Manor, keeping the Dementors away. In the air, dozens of brooms flew around one another as they duelled, with the exception of a small group who were strafing the Death Eaters with large fire spells or circling the Manor and dousing all floors in the same flames as the Manor was consumed.

But before them all, staring down hatefully at the foursome as he blocked their exit to Little Hangleton, was Voldemort.

* * *

 _ **Front gate, Riddle property, Little Hangleton, England**_

 _ **Thirty minutes earlier**_

"You know, this is a risky and stupid plan," Hyperion voiced his concern, and Charlus sighed again. Hyperion had a point, of course. Full moon was tonight, and truly turned werewolves were dangerous. He'd spent enough nights with his son's friend Remus to know that. But it also provided an advantage, for what those wolves gained in strength they lost in intelligence and cohesion with the rest of Voldemort's forces.

"It's a risk, regardless," Charlus said, as the core members of the alliance walked up to the front gate, except for the Twin Terrors, who were further back on brooms, ready to go at a moment's notice. The rest of the alliance's non-broomriders, about forty members in total led by Shacklebolt, were spread around the manor, surrounding the grounds so very few could escape them. "If we're not facing the werewolves, we're facing an additional number of wands. Personally, I favour facing the wolves. At least they can only attack up close."

"Agreed," Arcturus said, and that silenced any protest. Whenever the pair of Barons agreed on an approach, none could dissuade them from it.

They were at the gates now, and all prepared for the approach. All of them wore either masks or pieces of thick cloth to cover their faces, as minor protection against dust or shrapnel from explosions. Hyperion and Fleamont, both skilful potions masters, had multiple bandoleers lined with flasks of exploding potion, ready to throw them at a moment's notice. Hector hefted the stone Seraphina had enchanted, the stone that would cause nearly every single ward to collapse when thrown into them. Arcturus grinned, and Charlus massaged his scalp as Arcturus banged on the gate as if it was made of six foot thick steel instead of bars thinner than James's fingers.

The response was instantaneous: six Death Eaters apparated in on the other side, and hurried to check who the visitors were. "State your business, or we will be forced to banish you from the property," the leader said. Eastern Ukrainian, judging by how they pronounced the W, despite their proper English.

"We're here to burn the house down, and kill every single one of you lot," Arcturus said; Charlus smirked. So far, the delaying tactic was working beautifully: by now, nearly all of the Flyers would be in position to bombard the grounds when the wards fell, and the ground forces were already in position. A shame they couldn't bring in some enchanted muggle armoured tanks to truly demolish the manor, but that couldn't be arranged at such short notice.

"Then you are fools," the leader said. "Do you have any idea how many Death Eaters there are in here?"

"Twelve," Arcturus said promptly, before laying a bit of mock-eagerness into his voice. "No, wait! Thirteen!"

Hector snorted. "Nice one, old man."

Arcturus chuckled. "What can I say? It takes some serious effort to be properly irreverent at my age."

Charlus internally sighed at their banter, but narrowed his eyes at a Death Eater who was eying him. Then his eyes widened in recognition.

A heavily tortured, mutilated, and mind-raped – yet still walking – Randolph Lestrange. Randolph recognised him in the same instant, for he tried to turn back to call an alarm.

Hector took this as his cue to throw the enchanted stone. Charlus crossed his fingers, hoping Seraphina's enchanting skills were still up to her usual quality.

There was a shimmer, as the stone seemingly hit a dome covering the property. But the dome then shattered like glass, and the stone continued its path. On and on it went, until nearly all the wards were disabled, when the stone finally hit the ground a few feet short of the manor.

The Death Eaters scrambled to try and attack the Rascals, raising their wands hurriedly. But they never stood a chance. Hyperion and Fleamont both threw a pair of Exploding Potions each over the gate, which impacted right in the middle of them. The explosion blasted most of the Death Eaters a good few dozen meters away in various directions as the flasks landed and shattered, and the gates were basically blasted off the ground, only prevented from hitting the group by a pair of banishing charms from Hector and Charlus that sent them flying overhead instead. It also levelled whatever wall that remained to guard the property, and promptly awakened most Death Eaters.

It also served as Deckard and Seraphina's signal.

In the distance, near the Manor's front doors, Randolph got to his shaking feet. He tapped his wand to his throat before shouting. "Potter! Black! Lay down your wands and surrender!"

Arcturus snarled, and conjured a large, silver javelin, which he banished straight at Randolph. It hit as if it were launched from a harpoon gun, and pinned him straight through his heart before leaving his body again, keeping it pinned and suspended.

"DEATH EATERS!" Charlus shouted, and they all raised their wands (or in Arcturus and Hyperion's case, their canes as well). All around the property, members of the Great Alliance got up from their hiding places and did likewise. "COME AND GET THEM!"

For a moment there was dead silence. Then, dozens of brooms from all directions flew over Charlus's head, and made several strafing runs over the property. Half of them sent down massive Incendio (or in case of the darker families of the alliance, low-powered non-self-sustaining Fiendfyres) at the lands and manor, while the other half sent Confringos and Expulsos at the manor itself.

Immediately the doors burst open, and Death Eaters and their followers began to burst out to attack them.

They could've been sensible, of course. They could've properly planned this, found a way to sneak into the Manor and meet up with Bellatrix, get the children and any other prisoners, and gotten out without anyone being the wiser.

Were it not for one simple thing: after the breakout, they were _never_ going to catch this many Death Eaters in the same spot again, and Charlus and Arcturus wanted to make the most of it.

The Rascals charged ahead, met up halfway by Shacklebolt and Lana Shafiq, the latter a charms mistress and former apprentice of duelling champion Filius Flitwick. Each of them was a very skilled warrior.

The two large groups both met each other halfway across the grounds, and Charlus wasted no time. He conjured a trio of javelins and sent them to a trio of Death Eaters trying to sneak up on his flank. He immediately turned to his right, and grabbed a small werewolf by the throat as it tried to jump him. He threw it aside, handling the weight easily with the strengthening potion and elixir of endurance taken before the battle, and sent a Reducto at its throat, tearing it to pieces.

Charlus fought his way through the battlefield in such a manner, tearing through the Death Eater ranks. Hector and Fleamont were right by his side, while Hyperion and Hector were covering their rear with Shacklebolt. So far they only had the low and mid level Death Eaters to deal with, but very few of real strength or importance. No one on Dolohov, Karkaroff or Pyrites' level.

They managed to fight their way to the front doors, as they planned to head inside, needing to stem the tide while most of the recruits still needed to pass through the bottleneck of the front doors. While Charlus liked to think the Great Alliance would win because of quality, rather than letting the Death Eaters win through quantity, he knew it would devastate their ranks if they didn't eliminate most of them while they were still in the manor, or at least trapped them inside.

"Stay clear of the door," Fleamont ordered, as they approached the front porch, from which Death Eaters were still pouring out. Charlus shook his head in exasperation as he saw why: Fleamont had another Exploding Potion in hand.

"Hey, bastards!" Fleamont called, drawing the attention of most of them. "Knock knock!" He threw the potion. The sensible Death Eaters immediately tried to scramble back inside to get to cover. But it was no use: the potion landed right on the threshold, and the Potter brothers hid behind one vase beside the porch as the flame swept past them, Charlus' teeth trembling from the concussion of the blast.

He dived over the vase as soon as the flames cleared, darting inside with Arcturus right on his heels as they ran over the still-smouldering corpses, and the others not far behind. Hyperion, the last one in, immediately threw another exploding potion at the top of the doorway, and as they ran up the stairs to Death Eater quarters it collapsed behind them, sealing the only known entrance and trapping the Death Eaters inside with them.

A reasonable man would argue they were trapped with the Death Eaters: after all, they were only five old men all above their fifties, heading into a building with dozens of younger men and women who wanted to kill them. But a wise man would claim as Charlus did, as they ran up the stairs: the Death Eaters were trapped with them. Most of them were only young and inexperienced recruits, with little skill in battle and only following the ramblings of a fanatic. While the Rascals were each hardened veterans of the Grindelwald War, with one of them least devoted to the fight having dozens of deaths credited to him alone. Not to mention there were two Barons, a title only earned through clear and irrefutable great acts in battle. Not to mention a reputation that kept children from disobeying their parents too much, lest the Barons come for the child.

And so, when they reached the first floor and found the entire floor to be refurbished into a barracks-like room filled with Death Eaters, hostile Goblins, and Vampires, they were met with faces laced with fear, rather than eagerness for battle. Arcturus immediately conjured a wall a third of the way through the floor, reducing the numbers they had to face immediately down to about thirty.

Those they could handle.

Hyperion Greengrass immediately grabbed his cane at about the middle, and pulled it apart, lengthening it until it was longer than he was. Then, he immediately sped forwards. For while the man's wand work, potions skills, and business acumen were commendable at least, no one doubted he truly was a close range fighter. He immediately darted between bunks, and whacked a pair of Vampires in the jaws, one biting himself because of it, before throwing incendiary potions at both, burning them alive.

Fleamont Potter drew his wand with one hand, and a flask with another, and started to work on his own section of the room. He threw one flask at a Vampire, a blinding potion judging by the fact he rubbed at his eyes, and hexed it until it was nothing but a mess of jelly vaguely shaped like a woman, before setting it ablaze as well. A duo of Death Eaters tried to ambush him, but their effort was uncoordinated, and he easily rolled aside before charming the bunk and locker they stood between to press together, crushing them alive.

Hector Longbottom, meanwhile, was also fighting close range, though he still kept his wand in hand. But while Hyperion mostly relied on speed, Hector dealt with his opponents through his physical and magical strength. He picked up a pair of goblins with his bare hands, and tossed them into three more of their fellows. He then hexed a bunk to collapse on top of them, before firing a Reducto at the ceiling and letting it collapse on top of them. Another younger and inexperienced Death Eater, whose wand had been dropped in the scramble to get to the Rascals, flung himself at Hector and clung to his neck like his life depended on it. Hector turned and walked backwards, slamming him into another bunk, before shooting a Reducto in his face, and a piercing hex at the one behind the Death Eater, who'd been trying to get an angle on Hector. The latter missed, though, but the bunk behind him still collapsed as the supports for it were heavily damaged, still putting him out of the fight.

Charlus and Arcturus moved to join in, but a few loud thumps made them turn. They found themselves facing Abraxus Malfoy, Claudius Nott, and Cadmus Rosier, with Antonin Dolohov and Tyranus Pyrites bringing up the rear. The pair of Barons smiled. The other three could deal with the low-lifes; Charlus and Arcturus would deal with the real talent. After they dealt with Malfoy, Nott, and Rosier, of course.

A simple tripping jinx took care of the first three, as the three snobs were too stupid to shield, and Malfoy toppled the remainder of them. Dolohov and Pyrites jumped over them, though, and proper fights began, Dolohov heading for Black while Charlus headed for Pyrites.

Charlus sent a Fulmenio at Pyrites, whose eyes widened as he immediately jumped over the railing and dodged the lightning bolt. He unfortunately still clung on, though, and with one swift heave and momentum pulled himself up almost immediately, firing a killing curse to keep Charlus from stopping him. Charlus immediately summoned a nearby bust of a Maria Riddle, and her head took the curse for him, shattering to pieces. Charlus retaliated with one of his own, but Pyrites ducked underneath it, sending his own curse at Charlus. Charlus conjured another javelin and sent it straight for Pyrites' heart, dodging the curse at he banished it. Pyrites unfortunately moved, taking it in his upper shoulder instead of his heart, but was still hit.

As Pyrites winced in pain and tried to pull it out, Charlus gave him a kick, sending him over the railing, and Pyrites fell down into the spacious foyer. For good measure Charlus sent the piercing hex to the chain a chandelier hung from, and it fell on top of the man. There was a splatter of blood, and Charlus looked away, satisfied he was out of the fight. He turned, and saw Arcturus and Dolohov were fairly evenly matched, neither having a clear advantage as they duelled.

Charlus sent a banishing spell at Dolohov, and as he was occupied with Arcturus, it caught him off-guard. At the angle it was cast the duelling champion only hit the wall, but it put him on the defensive. He was in the middle of two Barons out to kill him, and he knew it. Charlus cast Fulmenio again, this time hitting Dolohov's wand hand. The shock, not enough to kill him or knock it out since it hadn't been that high-powered, made the man drop his wand, and Arcturus immediately summoned it. Like any reasonable wizard the man had a spare, though, and it was in his hand in an instant. He immediately flung Expulso at Charlus, who jumped over it and let it demolish the stairs below him, while the Death Eater immediately blocked an organ-melting curse from Arcturus.

Dolohov cast an Expelliarmus, and soon had his own wand in hand again. He immediately cast two Confringos at the Barons, forcing both to dodge. In the confusion Dolohov jumped over the stairway railing, landing next to a moving Pyrites. He quickly grabbed the man and apparated away, and the Malfoy, Nott, and Rosier snobs did likewise.

Scowling because they didn't manage to confirm a kill on even one of them, they headed back up to the others. They were immediately forced to duck: while the segregated thirty had swiftly been dealt with, the remainder had torn down the wall separating them, and now they had nearly seventy people to deal with.

Those they couldn't handle. Hector immediately scrambled back into the staircase, while Hyperion, bleeding from a shoulder wound, covered him and Fleamont with a Protego. Hexes came at them from behind, though, as vampires from another wing of the manor started cursing them from the opposite balcony. Charlus winced as he ducked into cover beside his brother, unsure what to do at the moment.

They were suddenly bathed in orange light, as flames engulfed the entire opposite balcony. The next moment a window broke, and Charlus looked up to see a cackling and Seraphina Bones fly in, jumping off her broom and landing on the shoulders of a pair of Death Eaters. Her pointed (and intentionally sharpened) heels dug into their shoulders, and as she rolled to the ground they scraped a bit of flesh out their shoulders, making them scream. As she rose she gave a quick kick at one (Charlus winced as the heel accurately hit the _eye_ , even through the mask), before whirling around and hexing the other through what remained of the window.

She turned to the others. Her outfit in battle, as they were used to by now, was more suited for Halloween: instead of her usual dress robes, she wore a black full body suit and cloak with a hood, and a white skeleton painted over her, complete with a skull painted over her face. An eccentricity of the Bones Twins, but none could complain with their results. "Am I late?" she asked, picking up her broom from where it had landed, shrinking it, and putting it in a pocket of her pants.

"Impeccable timing as ever, Sweetheart," Hyperion complimented. "Where's your brother?"

His answer was provided, as the room they'd previously fled from was suddenly doused in flame as well, and they all moved in as they heard another cackle. The entire room was basically covered in an inferno, and Seraphina's brother (dressed in similar black ominous attire with a skeleton painted onto him) was laughing as he raced around the room on his broom, dousing a group of goblins in flames.

"Ah, here comes the Cavalry," he laughed, as he moved to hover beside the Rascals. He dismounted, and like his sister put the broom away. The goblins, already mostly burned to their bones, toppled. After a brief inspection Charlus could see only fifty remained, only thirty of which were unharmed as they'd retreated into a stairwell before Deckard could've hit them.

The Rascals formed up, the Barons in the lead while Fleamont, Hector, and Hyperion covered one side, and Seraphina and Deckard on the other. All of them raised their wands.

The fifty remaining Death Eaters all surged forward, knowing what the price would be for disobedience. The higher-ups might have some leeway due to political pull or skill, but Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to massacre this lot on the spot. Trying to flee now would be a death sentence.

Of course, staying here practically amounted to the same thing. The Rascals immediately set to work, sending hexes, curses, and flasks of dangerous potions at the charging group. The first wave took down a quarter of the group, as they'd all been liberal with hexes and curses involving explosions or violent concussions. They took turns shielding against the return volley of curses before Arcturus sent them all back with a very powerful banishing charm, and the process started anew. Charlus smirked as they did so. Now, with the Rascals all together in one group, they were in their element. It felt just like when they were young: he and his friends against the evil dark lord, with nothing truly stopping them. Of course, they'd been younger then, and we're facing a much more dangerous foe now. But for a moment, as they practically slaughtered the dark minions in front of them, it felt like the old days.

Even the roar that suddenly echoed up the stairs behind them sounded familiar. Of course, as soon as the numbers were down to a level that Hector and Deckard could manage easily, he still turned. Werewolves were dangerous, after all.

Especially Greyback, a werewolf so corrupted and consumed by the Lycanthropy he'd accepted he half-resembled a savage wolf even when it wasn't full moon, and when it was full moon his wolf form had grown to nearly the size of a large bear. Charlus actually had to crane his neck upwards to look the standing werewolf in the eye.

"Greybaaack!" Hyperion warned those still dealing with the recruits, before immediately sending burning debris from the room at the werewolf to slow him down. The wolf easily batted it aside, as he got on all fours and stalked towards Seraphina, the closest of them. But it bought them the time they needed to change. The Marauders weren't the only unregistered Animagus Hogwarts students. Just the youngest, with a record of managing it at the end of their second year, a bare five months after finding out Lupin was a werewolf.

As such, being Animagi was familiar enough for them that they changed as faster than one could blink. Fleamont took to the air in his eagle form, and immediately began assaulting Greyback's eyes. Charlus himself changed into a Griffin, and immediately attacked Greyback's legs alongside the wolf form of Hector. While the three of them had Greyback distracted, Arcturus charged into them. Try as anyone might, no one could physically overpower Arcturus, the big black bear.

Greyback was toppled easily, and Arcturus immediately began mauling the werewolf. Deckard, Seraphina, and Hyperion immediately took a bit of distance, the three of them unfortunate enough their forms were small and relatively harmless, a pair of badgers and a cobra.

Greyback finally managed to kick Arcturus off, though it hadn't saved his jaw or face from massive cuts and bits of his skin hanging loose. The werewolf snarled and tensed, ready to jump at the bear.

Arcturus and the others changed back to their human forms, which Greyback tried to take advantage of and immediately jumped to attack. But the seven were prepared, and the Boneses started casting multiple highly-powered banishing charms at the werewolf, punching him back. Hyperion and Fleamont threw in the occasional exploding potion that made him lose concentration with the bright flashes in front of his face and the concussive waves of the blasts, although his skin was too tough to harm with the small flasks they'd brought. Hector cast the Piercing charm in rapid succession at the muscle tendons, and the werewolf howled as he was brought to his knees, confused, disoriented, and in pain.

Charlus conjured multiple silver javelins, and launched them at the werewolf with powerful banishing charms. While silver wasn't lethal to Werewolves, contrary to muggle myth, it was painful and irritating. And to have them slammed into his body at the speed Charlus banished them... if they'd been launched at a human arm, it'd been torn off. As it was, the Werewolf was thrown against the wall as they all hit his upper chest and shoulders, next to the window of the front of the building. He still got up, though, and Charlus gritted his teeth. There was a reason, after all, that the Ministry hadn't managed to put Greyback down despite confirmation that he was responsible for half the Lycanthropy victims in the country, and suspected of a quarter more.

Arcturus, though, still had a cruel card up his sleeve. As the werewolf snarled at the rascals, Arcturus pointed his wand at the Werewolf's jaws, and spoke an incantation Charlus hadn't expected yet knew to be gruesome with the power the Baron would put behind it.

"Accio Werewolf teeth."

Charlus watched in horrified fascination, as dozens of werewolf fangs were violently torn from Greyback's mouth, and all of them sailed towards the Baron, covered in blood as the Baron dodged them swiftly, leaving them to imbed themselves into the wall behind him. The Werewolf howled in pain as his teeth were pulled, and blood freely flowed from his mouth as he clutched at where his teeth used to be.

Arcturus sprinted forward while the Werewolf was stunned, throwing his cane like a spear into Greyback's shoulder, and tackled him right through the window, falling down to the ground below. Considering the floor was ablaze and without any more hostiles in sight, the Rascals all swiftly jumped after him.

Charlus landed in a roll, observing the battlefield around them. Arcturus had changed into his bear form mid-fall, and was once again mauling away at a defensive and retreating Greyback. The Death Eaters were unfortunately attacking full force, their number seemingly unaffected by the Rascals' efforts as dozens more Death Eaters fired curses from the three upper floors. The plan to eliminate them had only worked partially: while they were stuck in the burning manor, they were still capable of throwing curses at the Great Alliance members. Deckard and Seraphina noticed this too, and were back on their brooms and in the sky in less than a second, leading multiple aerial members in fire bombing the building.

But the Great Alliance, fortunately, was holding up extremely well. While the Death Eaters had them outnumbered roughly three to one, the Rascals and their allies seemed far more skilled, and if Charlus had to guess ten Death Eater were killed on average before one of the Great Alliance died. It seemed here that Quality won out over Quantity.

Even Dementors didn't seem to be a problem, contrary to what Charlus had expected. The things hovered on the edge of the property, but pairs of members kept them at bay, one of them casting a powerful Patronus while another shielded them both from attacks by Death Eaters.

Charlus couldn't let them have all the fun. He immediately picked out a mid-level member in the crowd, Thorfinn Rowle, and cast a killing curse at him. Thorfinn dodged by luck, as it went over his head, but the damage was done: the Death Eater was distracted, and while Rowle sought out the new threat, Hector sucker-punched him from the side, and banished him into a trio of Werewolves trying to get at Lana Shafiq, who along with a dozen others had drawn swords to deal with the things as they were too close to hex.

Charlus turned to find a newthreat, but found his attention drawn to the side, and away from the battlefield. A bit off, on a side road to Little Hangleton, a bright golden dome covered part of the road, and people were seen on the edge of it. Trusting his instincts, he fought his way towards it.

* * *

 _ **Tunnel exit, road between Riddle Manor and Little Hangleton**_

Harry paled, as he saw Voldemort stand before him, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. For the first time, with the pale moonlight and the raging fire in the background near the manor itself, Harry got a good look at Voldemort's face, for once not covered in darkness. And it wasn't pretty, trapped somewhere in the halfway point between the Tom Riddle persona Harry saw in the stolen memories, and the Lord Voldemort monster Harry saw resurrected in the graveyard. The nose was almost flat, the skin was a pale white, the green eyes had a strong, red hue to them, and veins were visible on his skin and forehead. But aside from that, he still resembled Tom, with the dashing hair, handsome features, and charismatic aura. Well, the latter would be there were it not for the battle. The sneer, and the wand pointed at Harry's heart.

"I must say," Voldemort sneered at them. "Your stupidity is _staggering_. When you passed through my hidden emergency exit, did you really not account for independent intrusion wards at all?"

Harry glared back, even as he admitted to himself that he hadn't. Then again, he wasn't infallible. And Bellatrix and Amelia, the two oldest of them, hadn't either, judging by their faces. Still, it was a stupid mistake he wouldn't make again.

"Shouldn't you be out there, fighting alongside your fellows?" Harry asked instead. "From what I'm seeing you're clearly losing."

"Oh, don't worry. Incapacitating you will take barely seconds," Voldemort retorted. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry instinctively cast the first spell that came to his mind, the first duelling spell he'd learned. "Expelliarmus!"

Harry saw the curse green curse come straight for him, and Neville, Amelia, and Bellatrix immediately dodged as they themselves also prepared to fight Voldemort. Before any of them could cast, though, the spells collided, and Harry's eyes widened. Oh, how had he been so foolish to forget?

The spells, instead of ricocheting of one another and heading to the sides, connected into a solid golden beam between him and Voldemort, with multiple smaller golden threads coming off of them that encircled them multiple times until they were both covered in a bright golden dome, with the others locked outside.

As at the graveyard, Harry and Voldemort's brother wands had (once again, from Harry's perspective) initiated Priori Incantatem.

The beads started in the middle, and Harry immediately willed them to Voldemort's wand. The latter looked shocked at what was happening, and was observing the threads with great scrutiny even as they fought their battle of wills, his focus not on Harry at all. Harry was in turn surprised by those events, but didn't stop to consider them. Not when his very life hung in the balance. With every bit of his strength, he willed the beads in the centre back to Voldemort's wand.

They were already almost there by the time Voldemort noticed the change in the beam between their wands, and by the time he did it was already too late. Only in the last instance before they connected did Harry feel a tinge of resistance. And it was not enough to stop him.

The beads connected, and the shades began to flow. A pop, from when he'd apparated here. A loud sound, from the sonorous Voldemort had cast. The shade of a middle-aged man, from the one that had died for questioning him. Followed by quite a few more shades, that although Harry didn't recognise them, Harry presumed them to be Muggles judging by their attire. Likely the ones he'd killed in a raid or when they'd been imprisoned.

Harry didn't stop to look at them. No one he truly knew would be among them this time, and Harry needed to figure out a plan. Once the connection broke, Voldemort would be back at him, and he wouldn't be caught off guard with this a second time. He would break it much sooner, and Harry and his friends would be dead, regardless of the skill of Amelia and Bellatrix.

Harry remembered something in that moment, from the Peverell book he'd been perusing at Hogwarts. It mentioned spell-bending, and how it could be- no, _had to be-_ done wandlessly and silently, if one had an indomitable will. Well, he didn't have much to lose. If he failed, or if he did nothing, he and his friends would be dead anyway. If his plan succeeded, he might wound Voldemort and force him to retreat, or at least push him back a bit and give them some breathing room. With all the power he and Voldemort were pouring into the connection, it was doable. Focusing on that magical energy, furrowing his brow in concentration, he willed the connection between them to become less stable, more violent and harmful...

A loud crack erupted between them, and Harry opened his eyes. He immediately widened them. His plan had worked. Bolts of Magical Energy erupted from the centre of the connection like lightning, and the vast majority struck fairly close to Voldemort. The Dark Lord, realising he was in peril, pulled his wand away and broke the connection, but it was too late. A single bolt struck him at the collarbone, fairly close to the neck, just as the violent breaking of the connection blasted them both to the ground. He immediately fell down, clutching the wound, while unnoticed by all but Harry a silver object was flung loose from him as he did. A silver locket with a large, serpentine S on the front landed right in front of Harry's feet. He felt an instant dark pull from the object, a very strong compulsion charm, and for a moment raised his wand to curse it. He knew without a doubt that thing was dangerous.

But Voldemort suddenly started patting his neck, and for a moment a flicker of panic crossed his face. And Harry realised Voldemort valued that locket.

Harry quickly snatched it up and pocketed it before Voldemort noticed. Until they knew why he valued it, they couldn't risk destroying Voldemort's locket. It might be something worthless, of merely sentimental value, although Harry doubted it, or it could have a map to the Horcruxes inside. They didn't know; all they knew was that Voldemort wanted it, and they needed to know why.

Voldemort looked up, and snarled as he raised his wand once more. Harry raised his wand to cast a shield charm, but was pulled away before he could, and a second later another killing curse struck where he'd lain seconds ago. Harry looked gratefully at Amelia, who lowered her wand and ended her summoning charm.

"Thanks," he breathed, as she softly lowered him down, mindful of his ribs.

"You're welcome," she said, before returning her attention to Voldemort. The latter glared at them, but couldn't do more as Bellatrix immediately had started duelling him, fighting for their lives. The dark witch cast various curses, including Crucio and Avada Kedavra, in an attempt to keep Voldemort from killing them, but she was outmatched. As good as she was, Voldemort effortlessly conjured brick walls between himself and the Unforgivables, and simply shielded himself against the others. Soon, Bellatrix was forced back, step by step, as she dodged or blocked organ expelling or bone breaking curses. Harry contemplated helping her, but Amelia joined the fray before he could, and he sank to his knees as exhaustion and pain from the torture hours before, the battle, and Priori Incantatem minutes before finally caught up to him. Together the two women tried pushing Voldemort back, in an attempt to give Harry and Neville some space. But it was no use. Even against these two admittedly formidable witches Voldemort was only slightly inconvenienced, and after the initial surprise of facing two opponents instead of one, he swiftly regained the offensive. Bellatrix was soon thrown into Amelia, blood seeping from her nose and a cut in her eyebrow. And Amelia had a small swelling on her head.

Curses started hitting Voldemort from behind, and he had to jump aside to avoid a killing curse. Harry turned, and found to his relief that Charlus was running towards them and casting spells, three men and two women right beside him. Seeing the man hold an old pocket watch that was softly glowing blue, he knew Charlus was only there to get them out. He grabbed hold of Neville's shoulder, who immediately clasped Amelia's arm as she collapsed in her own exhaustion beside him. Bellatrix collapsed a bit further away and out of physical reach, but she held up her own locket and winked. Then she glowed blue before disappearing with her own Portkey.

Charlus grabbed hold of Harry while the other five attacked Voldemort on sight. Two fell to his killing curses before they could even get their own curses off, and a third had her spell harshly rebound against her, hard enough she was flung back against a bit of hedge. The last Harry saw before he Portkeyed out was a fourth tackling Voldemort, only for the Dark Lord to roll with it and somehow end up on top and standing, his right heel on his opponent's throat as he raged and launched a curse at Harry in Parseltongue. The loud whirl of a Portkey prevented him from hearing what incantation it was, though, and the next moment he knew, when the sensation of something hooking into his navel stopped, he saw he was in a hastily raised hospital wing.

The Potter Manor Eastern Wing.

He smiled, taking solace for the moment in the fact he was safe.

Bare seconds after he realised that, a pop echoed. Then another. Then three more. After that, the pops and swooshes of Apparation and Portkeys didn't seem to end, as everyone on the Great Alliance that had fought to break them out seemed to return. Hyperion and uncle Fleamont immediately turned to Dorea and Hyperion's wife Agatha, who seemed to be the nurses in charge, the latter directing them to someone whose guts lay open. The pair immediately got to work. Baron Black apparated in right alongside Charlus, and the two shared irritated gruff nods before Arcturus (with only bare scrapes across his back from Greyback he could heal himself even if they would scar) left the wing, knowing he'd only get in the way. Hector made a brief appearance as well, and immediately took Neville aside and hugged him tightly, which Neville nervously returned. Amelia got up, only to move to a nearby bench and lay down.

"Hey?" he asked, nudging her a bit to keep her from nodding off. "You all right?"

Amelia smirked without opening her eyes. "You know, Potter, I can give you one thing," she answered, amusement clear in her voice.

"And what's that?" he asked nervously.

"I've had worse dates," she said with a straight face.

Harry couldn't help it. With all the events from the last day, being kidnapped and tortured by Voldemort before being rescued and almost killed, he needed to loosen up. He laughed, getting hysterical in the next few seconds. Amelia seemed to find it infectious, for she soon joined in.

Harry couldn't hold on, though, for his laugh soon turned into a cough. He clutched his stomach as a sudden pain erupted from it, and he looked down. His stomach, as well as his hands and shirt, were red with blood, and he also felt it dripping out his ear.

 _You can never escape me, Harry_. Echoed throughout his head.

The last thing Harry remembered doing was vomiting before he fell down, and he was unconscious the moment he hit the floor.

* * *

 _ **Riddle Grounds, Little Hangleton, England**_

Lord Voldemort sneered, as he killed the last one. So close. He had gotten so close to capturing Harry Potter again. But the boy had Portkeyed away with his father. As had the Longbottom boy and the Bones wench. He really needed to curse something. Preferably Bellatrix Lestrange, the accursed Blood traitor. But she had Portkeyed out on her own, and was nowhere to be found. And when he tried to summon or track her using her Dark Mark, she ignored him entirely, and he couldn't pinpoint her beyond being somewhere in the UK. Wherever she was hiding, the wards of that place were too strong for his mark to penetrate.

"My Lord," someone spoke, and Lord Voldemort turned around. The young Corban Yaxley was on his knees in front of him, head bowed in submission. "The Manor is ablaze with multiple Fiendfyres, and many have already been killed or captured. What shall we do?"

"Is the weapon safe?" Lord Voldemort asked. Many things could change and be replaced. Vampires and Werewolves could be retrieved from the Continent, as Viktor and Greyback weren't irreplaceable, and Pureblood Fanatics could easily be recruited elsewhere. But if his creation... If his weapon against the Muggle World was destroyed...

"Yes, My Lord." Yaxley reported. "I personally ensured the essentials were transported to the new Headquarters, and what couldn't be saved can be reacquired or recreated in less than a day. I myself ensured no one of the Great Alliance saw it."

So his weapon was safe. That was good. If his dream of a world rid of everything Muggle were to come to fruition, he needed that weapon. But it was at a fragile stage, easily destroyed if one wasn't careful. And even when it was completed, its usage took a while and could easily be stopped by any competent wizard or witch, even a mudblood. Hence why this required the utmost discretion, and why his new headquarters was at such a remote location... right under the Ministry's nose.

Lord Voldemort gazed to the Manor and the grounds. Yaxley was right: the Manor would burn to the ground, and all those caught inside would meet untimely ends. The Bones twins covered everyone else as his enemies retreated, their mission accomplished, the Twin Terrors themselves casting a final pair of Fiendfyres before flying off. Greyback let out a final howl as they flew quite close over him. It would be another blow against his forces, especially so soon after the ministry attack, but he could recover. The Catacombs themselves were protected by shed Basilisk skin Lord Voldemort had recovered from the Chamber of Secrets, and would survive a Fiendfyre. But with this location now known to the enemy, it wouldn't be safe to house the weapon here.

He turned back to Yaxley, giving orders for him and every other ministry spy to return and maintain their cover. His mind wasn't fully into it, though, as he walked back to his followers that remained. No, his mind was on Potter. The boy was a threat, contrary to what many would think. True, he was young, unknowledgeable, and inexperienced. Not to mention very stupid. But he knew too much. He had been inside his chamber, and seen his real name. He had Salazar knows how recovered a memory of him turning Sheesa insane, even though Lord Voldemort had been the only one there at that time. Lord Voldemort needed to know more about the boy.

But the boy intrigued him as well, especially with all he memories he'd seen. Oh, the boy might think them useless, but Lord Voldemort was nothing if not perceptive. The supposed walk to a Quidditch World Cup: During that walk they'd said they were still in England, yet England hadn't hosted the Cup since before Lord Voldemort himself had been born. Or the memory of the Weasley family. Seven children could be identified as theirs, yet at this point in time Lord Voldemort knew there were only two, maybe three at the most. And the patriarch and matriarch looked considerably older.

But the biggest clue the boy was more than he seemed was the memory of him rifling through the papers in a muggle home. The boy might not have noticed or realised it, but there had been birth certificates in there, of a Vernon Dursley, and a Petunia Evans, later Petunia Dursley. And, most intriguing of all, a son named Dudley Dursley.

Born in 1980. Even though the current year was 1975.

Yes, the boy greatly intrigued him. The memories shown to him were true ones, for he was clearly too inexperienced in Occlumency to forge a memory on the spot. Thus, if what Lord Voldemort had seen was true, the boy had acquired memories from the past and the future. A very absurd possibility, true enough. But the alternative, the boy being a time traveller, was even more so, and thus, Lord Voldemort presumed he had merely acquired, maybe divined the memories from different times. It would explain how he got the memory of Sheesa.

He would have to think more of it later, though. He had arrived at the gathering of followers standing in front of the manor. It was close enough to dawn that the werewolves had changed back, and Greyback was now standing amongst his fellow werewolves in a bathrobe. Travers was helping Rowle back to his feet, healing the man's jaw.

And there was Dolohov, laying Pyrites down on the ground so healers could deal with him. "Antonin," Lord Voldemort softly called. The warrior immediately turned, and moved to bow before his Dark Lord.

"You desired my presence, my Lord?" He asked.

"Yes, Antonin," Lord Voldemort answered. "As soon as everyone is back at the new headquarters and everything is taken care of, you will have a new mission."

For his defiance, the boy would pay. And if he was close enough to Petunia and Vernon Dursley to get a look at their birth certificates, and at such a young age, no less, they had to be very important to him. And for his defiance, Lord Voldemort would have everything he valued taken away from him.

"There are two families, muggle ones the Potter boy valued. Evans and Dursley. As soon as everything's moved to the island, wipe them out. All of them."

Antonin bowed dutifully, before turning to other duties. Lord Voldemort smiled, before making a glance around to make sure everything was in hand here. It fortunately was so, Dragomir Despard doing an expert job of directing everyone and everything around to make sure things got done as quickly as possible. Safe in the knowledge things would be taken care of, he Apparated to the island of his new headquarters.

Lord Voldemort smirked again. The fact he could establish his headquarters here was a sheer testament to the ministry's incompetence and stupidity. Sure, there were half a dozen Aurors supposed to be stationed in a small house on the edge of the island, but it had been child's play to have them rotated and replaced by either loyalists or people easily placed under the Imperius. There should naturally be more for such a large island, but the main building's guardians strongly dissuaded the Ministry from doing so, the souls of their Aurors sucked out the moment they did so, only driven off by a Patronus.

It hadn't always been used for this, of course — at least not full-time. That only truly began when Lord Voldemort began his crusade, and Abraxus Malfoy and Claudius Nott persuaded, more accurately bought off or threatened, the Wizengamot into dedicating the island to being a prison full-time.

It was the perfect cover. The Dementors, despite the Ministry's illusions to the contrary, were under his direct and absolute control. And while the levels above ground could still be used as the cover for prisoners, everyone who wanted to serve him, or already did but had been captured could easily be let free.

And besides, it was not as if the Ministry realised the true size of Azkaban. Without Parselmouths, they couldn't.

Lord Voldemort had been on the island before, when he had learned the Soul arts of the Dementors first hand. During his stay he'd come across a very interesting thing. Sections of the building that would later become the prison had been sealed off, only accessible by Parseltongue. And when Lord Voldemort had unlocked them, he'd found out something amazing.

The prison was far larger than anyone had ever discovered, and stretched on below ground beneath the surface of the water, for miles and miles down. In fact, if Lord Voldemort guessed right, the central shaft one needed to travel through to reach the lowest levels _could've_ pierced the planetary crust and created a local volcano.

But the levels themselves were the most fascinating. Many rooms turned out to be quarters, bathrooms, dining halls, storage facilities... But there had also been libraries and halls with treasure that could fund their operations for decades to come. If he were to guess, someone had once used Azkaban Island as a personal fortress to house their army in, before it had been abandoned because of unknown circumstances.

Salazar Slytherin had passed through here once, Lord Voldemort had found out to his pleasant surprise, on his travels after abandoning his fellow founders. The man had stayed here for a time, long before the first Dementor had ever shown up. He had used the libraries to his advantage then, and learned a lot of useful things that Lord Voldemort himself applied today.

It was here Lord Voldemort had found his weapon. Or at least how to create it. There were still things missing, of course. It required powerful sacrifices, incredibly intricate rituals, and ingredients from around the world that were near-impossible to get, like a forcefully taken albino griffin feather, or the clipped teeth of a living Chimera's snake head, retrieved under a winter new moon. And there were dozens more ingredients that needed to be added that were often a bit rare, or plenty but hard to get, that ensured that Lord Voldemort would need to spend years, if not decades, acquiring them all.

Well, Lord Voldemort had spent years, as had his followers. And he was so close now. Lord Voldemort didn't waste time: as soon as he arrived at the island he strode through the gates, and immediately unlocked the one hidden in the floor with Parseltongue. He strode down, before flying down the shaft. It would take hours to walk down, and he didn't have that much time on his hands.

As Yaxley had promised, the weapon and parts and ingredients were safely stored in the designated chamber, a large circular room with a shaft beneath them, a central pillar raised from the abyss that reached just as far down as the central shaft. The Weapon, once completed, would be launched from the centre. The roof above could be opened up, he knew, granting it access to the outside world. Of course, unleashing it took time, and could be stopped by even the slightest form of interference. Hence, when it was time, Lord Voldemort would have it defended by only those he trusted.

Himself, and anyone possessed by his Horcruxes.

Yes. If he did this, his dream for a world rid of Muggles would come true at last, and magicals could rule the earth once more.

As they were supposed to.

As was their unquestionable right.

As was Lord Voldemort's destiny.

* * *

 **Et voila. Chapter 6 is done. Tell me what you think of the Neville/Bellatrix scenes, since I'm very nervous about how well I did them.**

 **I've got a minor request from all of you: marauder nicknames for the time travellers and their Animagi forms. I want to give all six of them such nicknames, but I'm stuck. All I've got is one for Neville. Any thoughts or ideas would be greatly appreciated.**

 **Next Chapter: Harry recovers and has a talk with his 'father' and 'uncle', Antonin joins a family dinner, Halloween rolls around, and Potter Manor gains two as a result. And last but not least, Harry learns of the suspicions about the Slytherins... with surprising results.**

 **Read and Review, s'il vous plaît.**

 **Lucian**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm Back. Sorry for my prolonged absence, but shortly after uploading the last chapter I lost quite a few close family members in close succession, so my mood and creative writing skills weren't at the top of things. I won't bore with a long Author's note. simply an apology, and a request to move on.**

 **One FYI: unlike what I announced last Chapter, Halloween has been moved back so the kidnapping took place the day after it (leaving no specific dates for things gives that freedom), because otherwise the story progression will be too slow, and I'd be at 500.000 words before I reach first Christmas, something I don't want**

 **Thanks to Wolf's Scream for beta work. Phenomenal, as always.**

 **Disclaimer that I own jack shit of Harry Potter, and only a few OC's are my own.**

 **Please read, review, and enjoy.**

* * *

Chapter 7

* * *

 ** _Cokeworth, Surrey, England_**

Three pops of people Apparating in echoed throughout the town, but it didn't earn them much attention. It was around supper time, and most people would be having friendly gatherings around dinner tables or sat in front of those ludicrous things called televisions and radios. Or worse, sit around playing boring games on a flat cardboard surface or with cards.

All were things beneath Antonin's notice. True, the Wizarding world had similar games and magical counterparts, but Antonin had never been fond of those either.

He glanced behind him, making sure Karkaroff and Travers were there. He didn't know enough about Travers yet to trust the man's competence, and in his overeager bloodthirsty state he didn't trust Karkaroff not to splinch himself or end up in the wrong town altogether. But they were there, even if Karkaroff was practically jumping up and down in excitement. He gestured for them to follow him, turning down the right street and following the numbers on the houses. The Evanses lived at number 36, and at the moment he was at 4.

Initially, it had been hard to track them down. Not because they were hard to find, but rather, the name Evans was so common in muggle England the chance was too great for him to pick the wrong one if he just selected a random family in the phone book. It had taken three days (far longer than expected or wanted by either him or the Dark Lord) — including corroborating whether those families were associated with anyone named Dursley — but now he was confident he had the right family. The confirmation came from his chief source in Hogwarts, who confirmed the Evans child of this family was also a Hogwarts student, and a good friend of Harry Potter.

Of course, he could've struck earlier, the moment he found them. But he'd managed to beg it off for another day with the Dark Lord when he overheard the Dursleys were coming over for dinner the next day, and it would save time if they took both families down in one stroke, rather than waste another week tracking down the right Dursley family. Fortunately the Dark Lord had agreed with that assessment.

They arrived at the right number, and Antonin could already clearly see the two families at the dinner table, seven members in total. A piece of cake.

He cast silencing, privacy, and notice-me-not charms around the house and garden to ensure no muggle or passing wizard or witch interfered with what they were planning to do before he turned to the others. "Karkaroff, go around the back and enter through there. Travers, you enter through the window in case they become desperate enough to try and escape through there. I'll take the front door. You guys'll have ten minutes of fun, then we'll cast our marks." Upon clarification shortly before leaving, the Dark Lord had been very specific. _Cast the Dark Mark, and make sure everyone knows it wasn't a group of imposters_. Well, Antonin had just the way.

The other two nodded, and Karkaroff practically sprinted through the garden around the side of the house before disappearing from view. Antonin winced: with his excitement the idiot was going to give them away. But sure enough a few seconds later a red spark shot up in the air and the two families didn't seem to notice. He gave a nod to Travers, sent up a green spark in response so Karkaroff knew to move in, and headed in himself. He Alohomora'd the front door and kicked it in, stalking through the hallway before entering the dining room they'd been able to observe from the front of the house.

Travers was already there, and had already identified and petrified one the Dursley elders, a pair of fat pigs of no use other than target practice. Antonin immediately turned his wand on the other, and cast a Reducto at her fat belly. He might've put too much power into it, for rather than simply blowing her chest open, she exploded in a fleshy mess of meat and bones that decorated most of the wall behind her.

Travers laughed, and Antonin turned to him with a questioning look. "You made it rain," Travers chuckled in response, and Antonin rolled his eyes at the man's sense of humour.

A young girl, likely the young Evans sister, tried to run to the back door, only to bump into Karkaroff, who wore a predatory grin. He cast another pair of nonverbal petrifications at her and the girl's mother, only slightly different from the one others used. The girl collapsed limply on the floor, her face an expression of horror that was matched by the woman who now sat limply in her chair. Karkaroff's version of the spell, rather than making the victims rigid planks with limbs snapped together like in Petrificus Totalus, made them limp instead. Combined with the fact it also left his victims conscious, it fuelled Karkaroff's pathetic desires to horrify his victims while he had his way with them.

One of the Dursley children, a rather round woman well on her way to becoming like her parents, tried to run for it, a small bulldog Antonin had missed somehow running along with her as she tried to dive for the window. Antonin quickly turned, and transfigured the glass around the window into a ten foot thick and forty foot wide brick wall that would cover the entire front of the house, front window and door included. The girl jumped into it with her head, and he heard a loud crack as she hit it, before collapsing on the floor without moving. The dog whimpered at her feet and made pathetic sounds that annoyed Antonin to no end. A quick Avada Kedavra took care of that problem.

He turned around to check on Travers and Karkaroff, only to have a rather muscular man, the Evans father, slam into him. Judging by the way the man immediately tried to pin down his limbs and the wand with his feet, and the professional and quick manner he did so, the man was former muggle military. Behind him, Karkaroff was sitting on the ground clutching a broken nose, and Travers was wrestling for his wand with the only other person standing, the Dursley boy.

Unfortunately for Mister Evans, after joining the Ministry armies in the war against Grindelwald and shortly before entering the duelling circuits, Antonin had similarly served with the Muggle SAS. Skills like his were almost never taught in the Wizarding world due to the insistence of fools at Hogwarts and other magical schools that one is only taught how to defend themselves by wand, and a little-known fact was despite being purebloods, the Dolohovs weren't averse to learning muggle techniques in order to become the best there were. Antonin wrestled a leg free, and before Mister Evans could strike him, gave a resounding knee in the groin. Evans' grip on his wand immediately loosened, and Antonin wrestled himself free and rolled them so he was on top, before giving a chop to the neck, his pain in his groin and the trouble to breathe paralysing the man.

To give a final coup-de-grace to ensure he stayed down, Antonin cast a Cruciatus at the man and held it for five seconds (the man unfortunate enough to have the spell also impact against the groin) before lifting it. The man had his eyes closed in agony and didn't move.

A thud sounded behind him, and Antonin looked back. The Dursley boy was stuck to the wall between a few patches of intestine from his mother, missing a few fingers, and Travers, who had blood covering his mouth, was glaring at him with quite a bit of rage. Antonin made a quick check, as Karkaroff finally recovered from being stunned by a broken nose. The Evans parents: one paralysed in pain, the other petrified. The Evans child also petrified. The Dursley parents disposed off likewise. The Dursley girl was unconscious and heavily wounded, her dog dead, and her brother stuck to the wall. Good, that was all of them. He pulled his ruffled robes a bit straighter and made himself more presentable, before he made a thorough inspection with each of those still alive and conscious through Legillimency to check whether they knew anything about Harry Potter, but that yielded no results. The only thing the Evans family knew about any Potter was that the second daughter who was currently at Hogwarts, Lily, was often extremely vexed and annoyed because of Harry's brother James, and the Dark Lord wanted nothing on him. And the Dursleys themselves knew nothing at all. Disappointed, he turned to the other two Death Eaters.

"As I said, you have ten minutes," he told them. "I'll keep watch."

Karkaroff grinned and moved to the younger Evans girl, before picking her up and tossing her onto the couch. He tore off the girl's sweater and the blouse underneath, before starting on the girl's long skirt. Travers punched the hell out of the Dursley boy until he was unconscious, before taking the Evans mother and mimicking what Karkaroff was doing on her. Neither of their victims' expressions changed from the looks they currently had, but their eyes identified their horror.

Antonin turned to the Evans father. He pulled him up, and turned his head so he had to watch. The man, upon seeing what was happening to his wife and daughter, immediately tried to struggle, but Antonin cast Karkaroff's petrifications curse at him, ensuring the man wouldn't struggle even as he was forced to watch two strangers rape his family.

Antonin called it after ten minutes. "Time's up. Come on, you scumbags," Travers nodded and made himself more presentable as the Evans mother lay on the table, her clothing less than mere tatters clutching to her skin. Karkaroff grunted in annoyance, but similarly made himself more presentable. The small Evans girl lay completely naked on the couch, her head limply hanging over the back of the couch.

Antonin undid the transfiguration of the glass so the wall wouldn't block their exit, and all three walked out the front door. In their petrified, wounded, and stunned states, their victims wouldn't get away. He turned to Travers. "You do the Dark Mark," he ordered. "Karkaroff and I will do the others."

Travers nodded, and pointed his wand skyward. Antonin shared a grin with Karkaroff, this being their shared favourite part, before they both turned their wands to their targets. Antonin to the Evans house, Karkaroff to the neighbourhood in general. After this much destruction, there would be no doubt the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters were the perpetrators.

At the same time as Travers shouted "Morsmordre!" and the Dark Mark appeared in the sky, Karkaroff and Antonin both shouted "Fiendfyre!" While putting as much power as they could into the spell to ensure the fiery Chimaeras and Manticores and Basilisks and Dragons spread as far as possible, before Portkeying away to headquarters on Azkaban Island.

* * *

 ** _Unknown_**

Harry grunted, as he finally regained some sort of consciousness. It was black around him, though, so he couldn't see where he was. He tried to turn his head around, see if the darkness receded somewhere, but found he couldn't move.

Of course. With his rotten luck, he'd woken up in another memory of Voldemort.

He simply settled to sit back and watch, as he was forced to do every time he had one of those. He might pick up something interesting, like in the first two memories. Then again, for the last 2 months or so, he hadn't seen a really interesting memory either, despite seeing one on a daily basis, with the only exception being a single instance with a twenty-nine-hour gap.

The darkness cleared away a bit, and Harry saw a large, well-lit manor in front of him in the background. In the foreground, Voldemort was talking with a group of Death Eaters. Harry recognised Dolohov leading them from Voldemort's side, and Bellatrix, Rudolphus, and Rabastan Lestrange in their early twenties standing on the left side, along with two older people (one roughly middle-aged, one clearly an elderly fellow) Harry had seen in Riddle manor yet didn't know the name off. On the right of the group stood Karkaroff and Greyback, along with even more others Harry didn't recognise. They all numbered at about twenty in total, not including Voldemort himself.

"Reginald," Voldemort spoke. "I must thank you. You did me a great service showing me to the household."

"Thank you, my Lord," the oldest of the men near the Lestranges, Reginald clearly, answered reverently. "I live to serve."

"That you do," Voldemort agreed, now donning a wicked smile that Harry didn't like one bit. To Harry's surprise, Voldemort was clutching the same locket Harry had stolen from him on impulse after it had fallen off. "That you do. But still, questions remain."

"My lord?" Reginald asked, looking up uncertainly, and the three Lestranges and the middle-aged man looked just as confused.

"If the Great Alliance would lose a number of its key members — Seraphina Bones, or Arcturus Black, or Charlus and Fleamont Potter, for example, what would happen to the rest of those members of it, I wonder."

Reginald grew silent for a moment, before answering. "The Alliance would fall apart. While the original founders would still be loyal to one another, the remainder outside of the Rascals wouldn't be as eager to stay together without the backbone of the two Barons supporting them. Within a generation, two at the most, they would've faded out of one another's lives, and the Alliance would cease to exist at all beyond a mere notation in history about which groups fought against Grindelwald."

"And what of the individual members of the Rascals? The survivors?" Voldemort pressed, although the fact his tone became a bit lighter hinted he was pleased with the answer so far.

Reginald shrugged. "Deckard Bones, despite his arguing with his sister, is still too attached to her emotionally, as she is to him, to let go. To the point even, though I have no evidence to back this suspicion, that the twins likely formed a soul bond with one another. Should one die, the other would wither away to become nothing but a drunken wastrel within the year." Reginald paused, thinking things over.

"Hector Longbottom would survive, but withdraw himself to protect the remainder of his family. Urge them to continue the memory of the Rascals, but without the same friends to back him as usual his urgings won't be heeded. By the time he thinks of the surviving members after recovering from the loss of the Potters and Seraphina Bones, they'll be too alienated to completely reform. As for Hyperion Greengrass… The archtypical Slytherin, he would cover every angle and take care of himself and his family first and foremost, a tradition he'll pass on to his children and grandchildren. Without Arcturus as a familiar Slytherin alumnus with backbone, or Charlus with the stubborn drive to continue the Alliance, he would recuse his family from all future involvement with it of any sort beyond passing meetings at social events," Reginald frowned. "Why?"

"Very simple, Reginald," Voldemort answered, and his answer was suddenly a lot colder than before, to the point all but a bare few stepped back or at least flinched. "Antonin Dolohov, Abraxus and Lucius Malfoy, Claudius Nott, Corban Yaxley, and Cadmus Rosier have all informed me that despite your support of my efforts," Voldemort's tone became more and more menacing the more he spoke, "you still harbour sympathies for certain families that would oppose me should I pursue my goals further."

"My lord, I assure you-" Reginald began in a panicked tone, but Voldemort didn't let him finish.

"I have had enough assurances, Lestrange," Voldemort hissed angrily. "I can get those aplenty from any of my spies in the ministry. And while you have made good on most of yours, I still need one last test to ensure the loyalty of you and your family to my cause."

Voldemort pointed with his wand to the Manor behind them, and Harry was compelled to watch it as well. Its looming over the nearby lands, and the gate that blocked them from entering it, the crest of the family proudly displayed over.

If he'd been able to move in one of these memories, he would have gasped. He knew that crest. Had seen it so often over the summer he'd now be able to recognise it anywhere, even if he hadn't been conscious of that fact.

"Use this Wardstone to override the Wards and turn them against their creators, and burn Potter Manor to the ground," he ordered. Harry stared at the scene in front of him in shock and dismay. With a sickening realisation, he tried to will himself to see another memory. Anything, anything at all. But not the death of his grandparents.

He wasn't alone in this. Reginald Lestrange, and the middle-aged one beside him, visibly trembled, and the younger Lestrange brothers looked visibly nervous. Almost as if they didn't want to kill the Potters.

"M- my Lord," The middle-aged man with the Lestranges tried to stammer in his father's defence. "Surely if we wait for a few minutes, we'll gather more members in one place, an-"

"I tire of excuses, Lestrange," Voldemort snarled, and the Dark Lord's wand twitched. Which to the Death Eaters was as close to a warning as they would get: obey or suffer, "None of the members could meet at the same time today, and at this time the largest number of them will be in the house. There is to be no delay: Turn the Wards; burn it down!"

"The use of the stone is very simple," a Death Eater stepped out of the crowd, and Harry was dismayed to recognise a younger Augustus Rookwood in Unspeakable robes. "I already did most of the configuring for you. Simply put it down near the edge of the wards, and tap it with you wand. It is that easy."

The elder Lestrange visibly hesitated, but was relieved of the burden by the now grim-looking middle-aged man with him, who took the stone and put it down near the gate, giving a gentle tap with the wand as he rose again. Voldemort visibly smiled.

"Well done, Randolph," he applauded. "Well done. You seem to be willing to do what is necessary." Voldemort turned his gaze to Reginald, who had slowly raised his wand on the Potter property. "Now, the turn is to your father."

Harry, as well as every other Death Eater, turned to the Lestrange elder. For a moment, Harry forgot he was a prominent Death Eater and one of the chief financiers of Voldemort's war effort. Instead, Harry saw a man being forced to turn on the men and women he'd once called friends. A man forced to turn his back on his entire past. Harry felt pity for the man, surrounded by people who would kill him in a heartbeat should he refuse. A possibility that became greater and greater, as instead of casting a spell, the man's wand and arm started trembling.

"Do it already," a woman hissed from within the Death Eater ranks, and many murmured agreements with that assessment.

"He doesn't have the stomach!" Another goaded loudly. "Just look at his arm." In response Lestrange raised it higher, but the damage was done. Many people had seen his trembling, and were murmuring about whether he would do it. Harry, despite knowing it would happen inevitably, hoped the man wouldn't do it. He didn't know the man personally, but he'd heard plenty from Charlus about the man's Hogwarts times during the summer, and how highly he'd been praised before becoming a Death Eater. Even despite his changed allegiance, Harry saw it was hard for him to truly kill his former best friends. Unlike Wormtail, but…

Suddenly, Antonin Dolohov surged forward. "It's taking too long," he growled in anger, raising his own wand. "FIENDFYRE!"

Fire sprang from Dolohov's wand, and passed through the ward to land upon the Potter property. A second later Karkaroff's wand also spouted fire into the Wards, followed closely by Greyback, followed immediately by four more from various places around the perimeter. Bellatrix was the first 'Lestrange' to cast a fire as well, but by the time she did the deed was done: with at least eight Fiendfyres from different directions there was no way anyone could survive.

Harry looked on in horror, seeing what should have been his childhood home burn down to the ground. And how more and more Death Eaters cast their own fires to accelerate the process. How Dolohov actually directed them so they would do more damage. And how Voldemort laughed in the background as a potential enemy was burned to the ground.

Harry's heart stopped for a moment when the front door of the manor opened, and an older, now entirely grey Charlus and Arcturus stepped out, and the twin twinkling reflection of glasses indicating Fleamont was just behind them in the hallway. The pair looked on in shock as Fiendfyre surrounded the entire property, with flames burning down all of the small Quidditch pitch and gardens, and fast approaching the Manor itself. Charlus immediately ran forward to try and put them out, grabbing his wand from an arm holster, but Arcturus tried to pull him back. The wand immediately flew out of his hand, though, barely missing the flames of Fiendfyre and landing into a grinning Dolohov's outstretched hand. Charlus looked on in shock, before he was pulled back inside by Arcturus. The flames reached the building seconds after they closed the door, and the front porch and support pillars on it immediately collapsed, the now-ruined balcony that used to be above it blocking that exit. Screams followed shortly after, both from within out of agony, and from without out of some sick and twisted sense of pleasure by the Death Eaters.

Harry desperately hoped they'd made it out, but it was no use: the very wards that protected them in the past had been turned against them, preventing them from apparating out, portkeying away, flooding to another place, or even physically leaving by broom. And leaving on foot was likely also out, with this many Death Eaters surrounding them and Voldemort leading the attack.

Dolohov laughed, and walked forward with a gleeful expression on his face. "That's right!" he laughed. "Burn, you bastards!"

Harry glared at the Death Eater, growing angrier and angrier by the second. The man before him just earned himself a lifetime enemy, and was happy Charlus had actually killed him. Forget his lifetime sense of morality. Forget the by-Dumbledore-instilled belief everyone deserves a second chance. This man just bumped up on the list of people he hated the most, quite close to Umbridge, the Dursleys, and Voldemort. True, Voldemort had personally killed his parents. But Antonin Dolohov had been the one to kill his grandparents.

His environment swirled, and instead of the bright orange of the Fiendfyre and the darkness of the night faded away to a vague grey and white. The white came into focus, as did the grey. Blurs focused into slightly less blurry lines, and the grey turned out to be a stone ceiling. He slightly turned to his side, and saw the white likely was some sort of curtain. That meant he likely he was in some sort of medical wing. Maybe Saint Mungo's?

No, he realised, as he found his glasses on a side table by touch and put them on, the details coming into focus. Not Saint Mungo's. Hogwarts Hospital Wing.

"About time you woke up," an older woman's voice said beside him. "I was almost afraid you wouldn't."

Harry turned his head, and saw his grandmother sitting next to him. He let out a huge sigh of relief when he saw it was his grandmother, sitting very closely beside him in a chair. Without thinking, he rose and embraced her fiercely. After that kind of memory, he needed the reassurance. Dorea was caught off-guard for a moment, but soon returned it just as strongly.

"It's alright," she assured him softly. "It's alright. Neville and Amelia are safe, as is Bellatrix."

"It's not just that," Harry whispered, breaking the hug as it all came back to him: the kidnapping from the carriage, the Manor, the torture, the attack by the Great Alliance, the encounters with Voldemort, the hallucination after getting out of there. "Though that can wait for a few moments. How long was I out?"

Dorea frowned for a moment, concerned at what could've made Harry need such a strong reassurance, but fortunately let it be for now. "Four days since you got back from that hellhole."

"What happened?" Harry pressed. All he knew for sure was that he and the others escaped after Charlus had led an attack on the Manor, and later Voldemort himself, but aside from his own involvement he knew no details.

Dorea sat a bit more comfortably, as she recounted the tale. "It began a few weeks ago, where Arcturus Black managed to turn Bellatrix and Narcissa away from You-Know-Who's side and back to the Great Alliance, by revealing the truth of Horcruxes to them. After you were captured, Bellatrix sent a message by Patronus, giving Charlus and Arcturus the info they needed to prepare a rescue attempt. And knowing they wouldn't catch as many Death Eaters again once they became aware we knew where they gathered, they staged an attack on the Manor at the same time."

She paused, withdrawing her wand from her sleeve and casting diagnostic charms on him. "The Rascals managed to trap over a hundred of his followers inside the Manor, which they managed to set ablaze. The rest of the alliance fought with the Death Eater members and sympathisers that made it out, until Charlus took a squadron and rescued you, Amelia, and Neville from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named himself. After getting you three out, the rest of them simply retreated while the terror twins burned the Manor down. Not much has happened since, though. No retaliations, no suspicious movements, nothing." She smiled a bit, as she ended the various charms. "You recovered pretty well for the most part, despite being the most heavily injured."

"What was I hit with at the end?" Harry asked. The other effects, like the vomiting and nose bleeding, didn't worry him as much. Those symptoms could be healed. But the hallucinating of Voldemort's voice… That worried him the most, especially in combination with the memories.

Here Dorea grimaced. "A nasty curse I rarely encountered before. If I were to guess, it's likely the same one that has the ministry so worried because it can't be blocked."

"That 'Fourth Unforgivable' that's got everyone so spooked?" he asked.

"The same," Dorea confirmed, a grave expression on her face, one that lightened a bit moments later. "Fortunately, while it indeed seems to be impossible to shield against, it's mostly easy to treat the symptoms. The wound it caused on impact was easy to close, and the standard inoculation against Dragon Pox worked for the vomiting and headaches. The bleeding from your orifices was a bit harder to cure, but it wore off after about eighteen hours. As long as you take two blood replenishing potions you should survive."

"And the hallucinating?" Harry asked. Dorea looked up sharply.

"Hallucinations?" she asked immediately.

Harry nodded. "Shortly before losing consciousness, I heard him whisper in my head. And since I know the… Connection is permanently severed, I know it is that curse. And given the memories I acquired over the summer…" He trailed off, purposely being cryptic in case anyone not in the know about Harry's true origins from another time was listening in on their conversation.

"You're right to be concerned," she finished. "I'll look into it. If there's a way to end the hallucinations I'll let you know."

Harry sighed in relief, and let it drop for now. While it worried him, he knew he didn't understand a thing about healing magic despite how often he ended up in the hospital wing, and his grandmot- (no, his mother in this time, just like James was his brother and Charlus his father) was a certified Mediwitch and experienced healer. It would be much wiser to leave it to her for now, and instead only be involved by asking her about it periodically. Instead, he focused on the remainder of what happened at Riddle Manor. "How badly did it go in terms of wounded and…" He hesitated. Despite his goal to kill Voldemort and his new desire to make Dolohov pay, he was still a bit squeamish about killing and death so close to him. Especially with what had almost happened to Neville and Amelia.

Dorea nodded in understanding and didn't ask for clarification, instead answering his question. "Surprisingly well, actually. Of the nearly four hundred people we spotted in that area, ranging from dark wizards, vampires, and werewolves to goblin mercenaries and loyal, fanatic house-elves, we managed to kill almost half of them, as well as keeping all Dementors away from the battle. There might be hundreds more members hidden in other manors and safe houses across the country, but combined with the loss of most of their purebloods at the Ministry, it's a great boost in morale for us." She sighed, "We lost about thirty people, though, and a few dozen more wounded. You have to ask Charlus for the specifics."

Harry sighed, collapsing back against the bed. Thirty dead, dozens wounded, that brought at least fifty people into trouble because of him. Not to mention the four or five people that had run with Charlus personally to help him escape Voldemort. How ma…

"Don't beat yourself up," Dorea said sternly, interrupting his thoughts. And in that moment, she appeared like an angry cross between McGonagall and Pomfrey when it came to sternness and stubborn persistence. "They fought because they believed Death Eaters should be stopped as well, not just to rescue you. And those that saved you personally knew what they were getting into, and you are well worth the effort of being rescued."

"But-" Harry tried to argue no one should have to die for him, that his one life wasn't worth the sixty lost, but Dorea didn't even let him finish.

"At risk of sounding callous and uncaring about them, I think that with your knowledge of the future and the memories of him in your head, not to mention the fact you are my **_BLOODY GRANDSON_** , you are well worth the thirty lives we lost."

Harry tried to open his mouth to object against that, but she continued before he could even speak. "Besides, this is what we agreed upon: you complete your schooling while we take the war to him. It was merely an unfortunate accident you happened to be there at the time."

Harry stared at her agape, as she crushed his protests before he could even make them. She grinned in response. "The inclination to put the weight of the world on your shoulders is definitely a Potter trait, Harry. I've lost count of the number of times Euphemia and I had to talk Charlus and Fleamont out of the start of a depression after missions went particularly wrong during the Grindelwald war. It's not far fetched to guess you inherited that trait."

Harry smiled a bit sheepishly. It was true that he often blamed himself whenever something big went wrong, like with Wormtail's escape at the end of third year, or Cedric's death at the end of his fourth. Guess he knew where he got that from now. He changed tack before he could dwell on it further and get his grandmother's temper on it again. "Neville and Amelia?"

His grandmother's grin developed into a full-blown smile. "Already cleared from the hospital wing. It's five in the morning though, so I expect they won't visit you anytime soon. The Marauders and your other friends visited you whenever they could, though."

Harry frowned. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you up so early then?"

"We agreed we should keep a watch on you until you woke up. Fleamont was scheduled to take over at six, Charlus at twelve, and the DADA teacher Clarke after supper at six. I keep watch from midnight until morning."

Harry nodded, even as he filed away the information. "Professor Clarke agreed to that?"

Dorea opened her mouth to answer, but the door to the hospital wing opened, and said professor strode in and walked to Harry's bed, a slightly nervous smile on his face.

"Fleamont Potter and I go way back, actually," the professor explained a bit shyly, rubbing the back of his head nervously as he'd clearly overheard the last part. "He was my mentor and trainer back when I joined the American Aurors shortly after the Grindelwald war, and saved my life quite a few times since. Looking out for his injured nephew was the least I could do." He paused a bit, looking down with a sigh. "Sorry I couldn't save you, Harry. I was two carriages behind you, but the other Death Eaters held me up too long for me to be of any real help."

Harry waved it away. "It's alright. I glimpsed you trying to help out, I know you did what you could. Not your fault you couldn't get to me in time."

Professor Clarke let out a relieved sigh, and smiled genuinely as he looked at them. "Thank you Harry. I felt quite guilty for that one. It eases my nerves you don't hold it against me."

"It's alright," Harry assured him. Clarke nodded, and turned so he could look at both Dorea and Harry at the same time.

"I just came from an emergency meeting with Charlus and Lord Black-"

"Baron Black" Dorea corrected with pride, though it seemed more from an automatic habit than any real ire about the mistake.

"Baron Black," Clarke sheepishly corrected himself. "We've mostly recovered from the attack on the manor. All injured have been treated, all brooms repaired, all robes mended and such things. Nothing major really discussed. There are two things, though. The first is this." With that, he reached into his right robe pocket, and withdrew something green hanging from a silver chain. Harry instantly recognised the Locket he'd taken from Voldemort during their short fight.

"We found it in the tatters that were Harry's clothes from when he was rescued from the Manor, when we were dissecting them for objects of value he might miss. Your spare wands, the invisibility cloak, your map of the school, those sort of things. And this had Baron Black quite concerned."

"He should be," Harry agreed, then hurried to explain when he realised how that made him look. "I cut that from Voldemort's neck," he ignored Dorea's wince at the name, though Clarke fortunately didn't flinch in the slightest, "and he seemed quite upset when he couldn't find it. I thought he might find it important for some reason, so I figured it best that I took it so you guys could figure out why."

"Smart thinking," Clarke complimented with a smile, and Dorea nodded. She immediately took it from Clarke's hand, and pocketed it.

"I'll take it to them," She said upon his surprised and questioning glance. "You have classes to prepare for, and after Pomfrey wakes up I'm heading over to Potter Manor anyway, so I might as well take it with me. Besides, with my family history I'm the greater expert on Dark Magic artefacts."

"Suit yourself," Clarke shrugged. "The other thing is that with the recent attack on you, Bones, and Longbottom, not to mention Voldemort's newfound interest in you specifically, they want to step up your training. More one-on-one sessions in duelling and fighting and increasing your exercise routines, as well as lessons in battle tactics and strategies. They don't want you to be caught and defeated as easily again."

Harry saw the sense in that. While it helped in preparation for the inevitable encounters, the exercising and running he'd done for most of the summer and at Hogwarts since was mostly to make up for the stunted growth he'd had at the Dursleys, the events of later becoming a secondary consideration. He'd mostly depended on the spell tutoring from Charlus and Dorea to ensure he'd be able to defend himself. But they were right: he needed to step it up if he wanted to stop something like Riddle Manor from happening again, and simply running laps around the Quidditch pitch and half heartedly lifting weights in the Room of Requirement most mornings wasn't going to cut it. His gr- his mother frowned, though. "I get how he wants to do that over the holidays, and I wholeheartedly support the idea, but how does he plan to do that when you're in Hogwarts?"

"That's simple. Fleamont called in a favour." Clarke gave a grin, and spread his arms as he made an elaborate bow. "Sir Isaac Clarke, Defence Against the Dark Arts Teacher, malcontent, and private instructor in anything involving defeating Death Eaters. At your service," he said dramatically, before he looked up from his bow and grinned. "As I said, looking out for Fleamont's nephew's the least I can do."

Harry widened his eyes in surprise. Dumbledore was giving Clarke permission to give a student this much extra tutoring? That was a pleasant surprise. The Dumbledore Harry remembered (well, he didn't remember him like that originally, but he still realised he truly was that way after examining his own memories for his Occlumency) was controlling and manipulative, even if he meant well at heart. For him to give a teacher free rein like that was… surprising. "And he just lets you do that?"

Here, though, Clarke shrugged sheepishly. "Well, Charlus argued the point very well. Too well, if you ask me. As I was leaving to deliver the news, the two were still arguing over what specifically was to be taught even after I was given permission to tutor you."

Even as Dorea rolled her eyes in exasperation at his antics, she let out a sigh in relief. "Thank you, Isaac. I can see why my brother-in-law thinks so highly of you."

"Not a problem," Clarke reassured, before turning to Harry. "If you're up for it, Kid, meet me on Sunday morning in my classroom at… Say around eight o'clock. And ensure you've already done your physical exercises by then."

"I'll be there," Harry promised. Clarke nodded, and left the wing to give Harry and his mother their privacy back.

"A good man, Isaac Clarke," Dorea complimented him after he left. "He has issues about his own self confidence and he isn't very ambitious, but he's humble and very able in Potions and Defence against the Dark Arts. He'll do a good job of tutoring you."

Harry nodded in agreement. It would really help him if he were to receive some extra training, especially from a former Auror as inventive as Clarke. Still, he wondered how he would fit it all in. With the DA, Quidditch, learning that Spell-Bending stuff from the Peverell book, Potions tutoring until Christmas, and quality time with his parents and their friends his schedule was getting rather full. Yet, he knew he could manage so far. If necessary, he could even combine quality time with some of the other activities. If he let the Rascals worry about Voldemort and locating the Horcruxes through the memories he was sending for now, he should be all right.

And speaking of the memories…

He sighed. Better to get it out now than bottling it up later, or Charlus and Dorea wouldn't be happy about him keeping something like this from them. "I had another memory of him," Harry admitted.

Dorea's gaze immediately returned to him, a sympathetic expression on her face. She knew that even if they were boring and normal memories he still despised having them, and that if it were something especially horrifying or malevolent it would be even worse. "When?" she asked simply, not yet asking what he saw.

"Seconds before I woke up here in the hospital wing," he answered. He fell silent for a moment, gathering his courage. No matter how he brought it she wouldn't like this. No one would like hearing about how they would die. "It's the first one after his Hogwarts years. It…" Harry paused, his eyes becoming watery. "I saw how you died."

Dorea's face immediately fell, and he saw she was also mentally preparing herself for what she would hear, even as she grabbed Harry's hand in reassurance, though Harry wasn't sure whether it was for himself or for her.

"It happened at night." The words of the memory simply tumbled out of Harry as he related what he'd seen. Randolph changing the wards of the Manor with Rookwood's assistance, Reginald's analysis of what would happen should certain members of the alliance die, Reginald being pressured into starting the Fiendfyre, Dolohov actually doing it… Seeing Charlus actually come and investigate alongside Arcturus.

By the time it ended, Dorea's eyes were as wet as his were, though she managed to hold in her tears so far. Harry sighed, and grabbed his wand and one of the empty potion vials next to his bed. He made a quick scourgify to ensure it was clean of any stains or remaining potion, and then summoned the memory from his head. He deposited it in, and looked for the cork. Thankfully, Dorea did so herself, and silently took the memory and pocketed it.

"Thank you," Dorea said, "for telling me that is. Back when you just arrived, I don't doubt you'd have kept it to yourself for a long time rather than telling us outright."

Harry nodded, unable to dispute that.

She leaned over, and gave a hug as fierce as the one he gave her at first. He returned it as well.

"There's a small relief at least," Harry pointed out as he realised something. "Charlus killed the Dolohov, Rookwood, and Rudolphus Lestrange from my future back in the Manor, so he got at least some sort of revenge."

"That he did," Dorea agreed, hugging him a bit more strongly for a moment before separating.

"I need to go away for a moment," she said, holding up both the locket and the memory. "Charlus needs to know about these. I'll be back soon, though."

He nodded, and she turned to leave. He suspected she needed a moment alone to compose herself, though, from how fast she was striding.

"Wait," he called out, one last question for her on his mind. Dorea stopped and turned to face him.

"How come Madam Pomfrey isn't here? Usually she's very protective of her wing."

Dorea smiled, and Harry was relieved to see it was a genuine smile. "That's very simple, Harry. We shared the same house and year together, as well as studying at Saint Mungo's at the same time. We're friends, and she knows I can be trusted to take care of her patients."

Harry nodded, and Dorea left and closed the doors to the wing. He sighed and closed his eyes to rest. That had been an emotionally taxing moment a few minutes ago, recounting his grandparents' (no, parents') deaths, and combined with the reason he was in the wing in the first place, he knew he needed rest.

The door banged open again after barely a minute, though, and Harry looked up. He couldn't keep the smile off his face, though, with the enthusiastic greeting he got.

"Greetings," James Potter called majestically, leading the Marauders and Hermione and Ron in. Neville, Ginny, and Luna hung back for the moment, allowing the Marauders their chance of an enthusiastic greeting. They were dragging a cart similar to those in luxurious muggle restaurants with them, covered by a bright white cloth.

"We heard they were about to present the new iteration of the classic Harry Potter to us," he continued.

"But it looks like he got a bit banged up," Sirius responded despondently, though it was highly exaggerated.

"Ugh. And he's bedridden," Peter said, a mock-sneer on his face that would even make the older Snape nod in respect.

Remus sighed in exasperation. "I'm happy to see you're awake, Harry. Would you mind giving me a mercy killing? Their sense of humour is torturing me, and no one else wants to."

Now, before the rest of the Marauders could get in an indignant response, Ron pushed them aside with the cart and brought it up. "Now Harry," he said, a smile plastered on his face. "In celebration of your awakening, we had the house-elves prepare a special feast for you." He pulled the cloth off with that, revealing a varied assortment of mostly sweets and candy. Ron pointed to a large box of Every Flavoured Beans.

"Skele-Gro-flavoured beans," he explained, before pointing at a closed box of pastries.

"Skele-Gro-flavoured Pumpkin Pastries." Ron pointed at bottle of juice next.

"Skele-Gro-flavoured pumpkin juice."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and stepped forth before Ron could identify the entire cart's contents, even as Harry started smiling at the joke. "I had a book written especially for you. I thought you might appreciate it."

Harry nodded in thanks as she handed it, a book with barely a dozen pages and a yellow cover to him with a smile even as the others snickered away and Neville (who he noted in dismay still had the three slash scars from Greyback on the right side of his face, even if the wounds themselves had healed), Ginny, and Luna approached. He read the title, and promptly threw his head against the headboard in exasperation. "Evading for Dummies: the guide on how to dodge," he said with a deadpan voice, laced with a hint of exasperation. "Really."

Hermione smiled, as she took it and opened it. It was mostly a picture book showing ways stick figures could dodge. What did it for him, though, was that there were several examples in the back of how one usually failed to dodge… and each of such examples had a picture copy of Harry's face plastered over them.

"Thank you," he said sarcastically. "Just what I needed: a book with pictures of myself. I'll end up fawning over myself like my brother or Lockhart if this keeps up."

"Well, you obviously need a book on how to dodge, considering you still end up here too often," Ginny said, as she finally caught up with the rest of them. "And what better way to instruct than show the various ways you could fail?" She batted her eyelashes at him jokingly with a mock-innocent expression, and he rolled his own eyes even as he felt himself smile.

"Thanks guys," he said, genuinely this time. "It's good to be back."

"It's good to see you back," James smiled.

"Now let's eat," Ron said. "I reckon none of us have had breakfast yet."

"Ron!" Hermione admonished, swatting his arm before dragging him a bit away so they wouldn't argue right in Harry's face. "Honestly, is food all you can think about?!"

Harry smiled, ignoring the argument as he instead reached out for a pumpkin pastry on the cart. He spat it out after only one bite, even as James and Sirius fell to the ground and laughed.

The bloody bastards hadn't been joking about the taste.

* * *

 ** _Docks, Azkaban Island, North Sea, Ten Miles East of English coast_**

Antonin shivered, as he arrived on the Island. Say what you wanted about their uses, it always got to you when you were close to Dementors. It had been bad enough at the Manor, when there had only been two dozen at most. But now, here, where there were hundreds, it was really bad. It took all of Antonin's resolve to just keep walking and not fall and succumb to his worst memories. As a soldier of the Grindelwald war and his brief, two-year service with the muggle SAS after that, he had his fair share of them.

Fortunately, the Dark Lord had mercy on them and chose the easiest entrance to the underground levels for them: the entire floor of the arrival hall opened up and split in two, revealing a staircase that led into the darkness. The ministry Law Enforcement officers in sight, six in total, didn't do anything. Only three, who were likely on the Selwyn payroll, looked up before promptly turning their heads away, while the remaining three ignored it completely, showing they were under the Imperius curse.

Fortunately after descending the stairs until he was below where the floor would be the influence of the Dementors lessened, likely by a special ward that had been put up by the Dark Lord to protect his followers from the worst of it. Karkaroff and Travers followed close behind, and the floor closed up again behind them. Antonin immediately retrieved his wand and cast a Lumos. It was one thing to remain stoic and show your mental strength by walking to Dementors without one, but walking down a stairway in complete darkness was just foolish. Upon him doing so Travers and Karkaroff did likewise.

The stairs started to circle, and continued down for quite a while, but then again the levels only really expanded until after the base of the island had widened until was at least four times as wide below sea level as it was above. And even then it was mostly arrival rooms, sparse servant quarters, or storage cabinets for the first three levels.

The entire bit was also covered in darkness, but then again this part of the prison had only been inhabited for a few days, even if it had been constructed over a millennium ago. No one had bothered to replace the rusted-away fittings for the torches or bothered to install lights anyway. No, the refurbishing started from the bottom up, near the Dark Lord's quarters and the massive Ritual Chamber, and worked their way upwards. Indeed, as he eventually started to circle the central shaft, which went up high enough it even reached the top of the island before closing off, he saw signs of activity down below them. Lit torches, the sound of various incantations being spoken, and on occasion even bits of stone hovering past them and flying up or down levels.

Whoever had created this underground fortress, aside from being quite efficient when it came to housing troops and storing supplies with the hundreds of storerooms of supplies and treasures they'd found so far, had had an artistic sense. Rather than leaving the side of the central shaft bare and rough, it had arches carved into it, hundreds of them until Antonin thought they resembled the circular muggle colosseum in Rome quite a bit. Although it was only half as wide as said colosseum at the lowest reachable point, it was quite tall. Hundreds of metres in fact. Were it not for the fact they were only traveling until they got to the ritual chamber a third of the way down (which was admittedly the lowest one could get on foot) he would've had to walk hundreds of stairs and likely at least ten times as many metres down in order to reach the bottom.

If there was one. Many of the lower ranks and the superstitious ones debated there wasn't, that it went down to the core of the earth itself.

Of course, work was suspended for the night on the lower levels, for there was an inner circle meeting in the Ritual Chamber. That was where they were going right now. Antonin would've apparated or Portkeyed there directly, but the Dark Lord had expanded the Wards that prevented one from doing the same in the surface prison downwards so they covered the underground levels as well, in addition to keying them to himself so they would live and remain strong for as long as he did. And if Antonin flew in on a broom or flying carpet he was sure he would've been hexed first before they would've tried to identify if it was him. So walking it was.

Finally he arrived at the populated section. Gibbon and the elder Wilkes greeted him, and they held up their hands, wands twitching in their other hands should the trio prove hostile. Antonin, Travers, and Karkaroff merely rolled up their sleeves and portrayed their Marks, which allowed them to pass after a brief spell to check if they were authentic.

There were dozens down below, too. In one room, a despondent Rudolphus Lestrange sat on a crate, looking down at the picture of his brother, before looking up and staring into the distance with an enraged look on his face. In another lay various beds with the more severely wounded from the attack on the Manor on them. Antonin spied his good friend Tyranus Pyrites lying asleep on one of them, still recovering from having a javelin launched into his shoulder and a chandelier collapse on him and break many of his bones. Antonin debated on visiting, but decided against it; the Dark Lord demanded his immediate presence upon completing the visit to the Evans family, and He was not someone to be denied.

Finally, he arrived, and walked over the bridge. A single solid stone pillar rose from the centre of the shaft, and ended in a horizontal straight plateau fifty metres wide at about the level Antonin was now, connected to the remaining chambers by four old wooden bridges that had in his absence been turned into stone bridges (without handrails, in keeping with the fortress' original design and to Antonin's consternation at the lack of common sense. Then again, that was something the Wizarding world lacked aplenty.)

The others in the Inner Circle were already there. The people present were all important members to the cause, and could all be categorised into five official groups in Antonin's mind. The Financiers, the proverbial purses of the Death Eater cause that ensured they actually had the money, supplies, and connections to wage their war, like Abraxas Malfoy, Claudius Nott, Ignatius Selwyn, Cadmus Rosier, the socialite Walburga Black (though not anymore, considering Baron Black had cast her out), until his death at Baron Black's wand for betrothing his grand nieces Pollux Black, and Reginald Lestrange.

There were the truly skilled ones that had earned the Dark Lord's favour due to either many repeated successes or singular yet very great ones, like Cadmus' son Evan, Igor Karkaroff who was still walking behind Antonin as they walked onto the plateau, Samantha Zabini, Tyranus Pyrites, though the man himself was absent due to his injuries, until their untimely deaths and/or desertions at the Manor Alecto and Amycus Carrow and Bellatrix Black, and of course himself.

Then there were the Infiltrators, those that had embedded themselves deep into Wizarding Britain's society and Ministry of Magic (there were many more, of course, but these respective members were in charge of said infiltration networks and cells on the Dark Lord's behalf), like Barty Crouch Junior, Lucius Malfoy, Theodore Nott, Augustus Rookwood, Antioch Travers who was still walking behind Antonin, and Antonin's friend Corban Yaxley (though today only Malfoy, Yaxley, and Travers were present, the others too deeply embedded to get out of their posts and in here on such short notice).

And of course the representatives of the Dark Lord's non-human allies or allies that can't reach headquarters on short notice for other reasons than infiltration, with Fenrir Greyback (who even now was still nursing his healing jaw after having all his fangs violently pulled out) representing their Werewolf packs, the triumvirate of Viktor Levitsky, Amelia de la Serre, and Markus Corvinus representing the majority of the European Vampire Covens, an ugly and scarred Goblin named Bloodblade representing the hired Goblin mercenaries, Dragomir Despard and a few others Antonin didn't know by name representing the Dark Lord's Pureblood allies in other countries and on other continents, and a single Dementor in the background representing his own kind (though thankfully the ward Antonin had felt earlier kept its influence limited).

And last but most definitely not least, the Dark Lord himself, who was in a league of his own.

All of them wore their full Death Eater regalia, with dark cloaks and masks in all. Even the Dark Lord, though he never wore a mask, only a raised hood. Antonin made the respectful bow as he entered the filled plateau, before taking his place in the circle between Evan and Corban, who each greeted him with a smile partially hidden by their masks and a congratulatory pat on the back. Travers and Karkaroff did likewise and mingled with their own associates, Travers with Selwyn and Karkaroff moving to stand near Greyback.

"Ah, Antonin," the Dark Lord greeted him, sounding pleased for once. "I gather that your trip to Cokeworth was successful?"

"Yes, my Lord," Antonin answered. "The Evans and Dursley families are ashes right now, and the entire village of Cokeworth is burning under the flames of Fiendfyre as we speak."

"Did you inquire about their connection to the Potters?" the Dark Lord asked. Antonin nodded.

"I searched all of their minds with Legillimency, my Lord. Surprisingly, none of them knew anything about Harry Potter. As a matter of fact, the only thing I could find out about Potters at all in their minds was that the only Evans not present, a Hogwarts student named Lily, is frequently irritated by his brother James."

The Dark Lord grew pensive. "Curious that they knew nothing, Antonin, considering what I saw. You're sure you found all about them there is to find in their memories?"

"Their minds were as clear to me as crystal, my Lord," Antonin answered, starting to get nervous. If the Dark Lord suspected he hadn't been thorough…

The Dark Lord sighed. "Disappointing, but somehow not unexpected. And not a failure on your part, Antonin."

Antonin let out a sigh of relief, exhilarated he wasn't going to end up a dead or tortured corpse on the floor or at the bottom of the shaft. The Dark Lord turned away from Antonin, and spoke.

"Now, to more urgent matters," the Dark Lord started. "Our losses of Pureblood allies at the Ministry, combined with the defeat at the Manor, has cost us a fifth of our forces in England. Hardly a loss we suffer lightly."

"Indeed," Markus Corvinus, apparently the head of the Vampire Triumvirate leading the Covens, added. "A great many of our brothers and sisters were killed when the Manor was burned down."

The Dark Lord gave a mild glare that immediately made Corvinus back down, but continued. "The burning of the town of Cokeworth sent a statement that we are not out and defeated, but for now we need to be cautious. We cannot afford to suffer losses at that rate." He turned and directed himself to the various representatives.

"Fenrir, Markus, Viktor, Amelia, you are all free to continue to turn as many and satisfy your bloodlust as often you please, but I ask that you use stealth and subterfuge rather than force in order to do so. As I said, we cannot afford too close attention, now that the Great Alliance seemingly involves itself in this war on top of the Ministry and Dumbledore's Order."

The people addressed bowed their heads, even as Antonin observed Greyback grimace due to the pain it caused in his jaws. Viktor Levitsky frowned, though. "We cannot openly act on our own, as we did before we joined forces?"

Instead of addressing Viktor's concern, the Dark Lord turned to one of his other followers. "Selwyn, due to your family's history with Dark Rituals, I expect you have the Lunar and Solar cycles memorised. When is the next total Solar eclipse?"

Selwyn looked momentarily caught off-guard at being suddenly addressed when the Dark Lord was still handling his business with the non-humans, but promptly answered as soon as he composed himself. "April 1977. In the middle of the month, I reckon, but I have to check with my telescopes and Solar and Lunar charts to be sure of an exact date and time."

The Dark Lord nodded, and turned back to Viktor. "There's your answer. Lay low for now, and quietly turn and recruit as many Vampires as you can, and come April 1977, I will enact a ritual that will greatly prolong the eclipse, and we shall organise a major daytime raid for you and your Covens so you can turn as many as you want. A location and exact time will be forthcoming as the date approaches."

The three Vampires, extremely satisfied with that plan even if it was so far away, nodded with predatory grins and resumed their place in the background of the circle. The Dark Lord turned to a number of the financiers next.

"Claudius, Abraxus, how fares the inventorying of the treasures found down here? In preparation for future raids as we are planning, we might need more materials and items than your fortunes alone can provide without crippling you."

Antonin suspected the Dark Lord didn't care whether the acquisition of such items would bankrupt them or not; he was too ruthless and power-hungry for that. But he still needed to portray an image of being sympathetic to them and their plight, and so took on a concerned face as the two respective families gave their reports. "Rest assured my Lord, with the fortune here we could supply our entire armies with Goblin forged armour and we wouldn't be spending half of it. Whatever items you will request we buy shall not be our undoing."

The Dark Lord nodded. "Good. Very good. And what of the… Extraordinary Items I asked you all to retrieve?"

Here the Financiers looked uncertain, nervous even. Antonin couldn't blame them. These were the ingredients needed to complete the Dark Lord's ritual that would rid them of their most hated enemies. The end goal they all worked towards. Any, ANY failure on this front would not be taken lightly. "We have almost all the items you need and cannot retrieve yourself, my Lord. Only three things need to be retrieved. But…-" Ignatius Selwyn trailed off nervously, but Reginald Lestrange, former co-founder of the Rascals, took over for him.

"Due to some of the conditions you asked us to retrieve the items under, we cannot acquire the last three items at this time. As a matter of fact, the next one can only be retrieved in a year, and the last two six months after. Certainly not in time for the proposed Eclipse Attacks, so the two cannot overlap and provide cover for the ultimate plan."

The Dark Lord growled in anger and clenched his fists, and his wand flew into his hand. Immediately, all present grew wary. Antonin started to bounce on the balls of his feet, ready to dodge should a Killing or Cruciatus Curse let loose out of frustration accidentally go near him. Fortunately, though, the Dark Lord stayed his hand.

"A great disappointment," he growled. "But it will not change the plan. We merely need to devise another diversion when the time comes, so neither the Ministry nor Dumbledore nor the Barons will think to send people until it is too late."

"What about an all-out assault on Hogwarts at that time, Dark Lord?" Bloodblade suggested, and everyone, even the Dark Lord, turned to regard the Goblin with surprise. "None would expect it due to the false rumour you fear Dumbledore," the Dark Lord growled and moved to raise his wand at the implication, but the Goblin apathetically spoke on to relay his plan to them. "But if we gather all our allies, even those in other countries and on other continents, certainly we can overcome many of the Wards present, and overwhelm any response the Ministry or the Great Alliance will send to oppose you. Even they cannot overcome the thousands spread across the world sympathetic to your plight. And if either yourself or any of the skilled witches and wizards here kill Dumbledore during that battle, it would be such a blow to their morale they'll never recover, regardless of the success of this 'Ultimate Plan' you cooked up."

The Dark Lord, although silent, visibly fumed at the implication, through the existing rumour He feared Dumbledore, that he was weaker than the Hogwarts headmaster. Antonin wisely decided to stay quiet, as did the remainder of the Inner Circle. But then the Dark Lord's expression calmed, as the wheels started turning in the Dark Lord's head. It could work, Antonin supposed. Despite the power of the Wards and the skill of Dumbledore and the Great Alliance members, any bastion could fall if overwhelmed by enough force. And given how many people were loyal to the Dark Lord (over a thousand witches and wizards in Britain, hundreds of Dark Creatures like Giants, Trolls, Dementors, Werewolves, Vampires, Rogue Goblins, and House-Elves, not to mention the dozens of prisoners in Azkaban that could be Imperiused and the hundreds of allies gained on the continent and outside of it during the Dark Lord's travels) it was very well possible they could win this.

But there was a huge risk as well. The Dark Lord couldn't be present during the battle full-time, if at all, for he had to commence the ritual from the ritual chamber here at some point, which was in turn a lengthy and fragile process where many things could go wrong. And if, by some absurd miracle, they lost the battle and the majority of their forces, or the ritual was interrupted, it could set them back by decades in the amount of forces and/or ingredients lost, if not stop them altogether. Even if the Dark Lord survived, very few supporting their cause would, and Dumbledore, Barons Potter and Black, or the moralistic and idealistic Ministry members could push through whatever laws they wanted to push through, with no opposition whatsoever. A lot would depend on them winning this battle.

The Dark Lord finally seemed to decide. "It carries a lot of risk. But it carries great rewards," he spoke. "Very well. We'll prepare for such a battle. Stock up on potions and spell-resistant materials and such," the Dark Lord paused, smirking. "Have our skilled Potioneers start brewing batches of Felix Felicis, as many cauldrons as they can handle at a time. If we would risk such a battle, we'll take every advantage we can get."

Many people, including Antonin, nodded as orders were handed out. Safe houses to be prepared, stuff to be bought in advance, forewarning allies to prepare for the day to come. Some might argue it's a bit early considering the attack itself is quite far away, but the way the Dark Lord saw it there was no harm in being prepared, and since no one would find out about the lair beneath the Ministry's own prison due to every entrance needing to even be found, much less unlocked with Parseltongue, there was no problem storing a lot of it here. And besides, it was quite a bit of stuff and material they were bringing in, including for people who weren't even there yet, so there was no harm in being prepared from that early on. Antonin tuned most of it out. He was a man who fought and got things done. The kind of man that led the charge alongside the Dark Lord when the assault on Hogwarts began. Not the kind of man that handled the logistics, unless the man doing the handling needed protecting.

"Unless anyone else has anything to bring forth right now, this meeting is concluded," the Dark Lord ordered after the details had been ground out. The Inner Circle members nodded, and after it became clear no one would bring anything up, they all started to disperse. "Reginald, Abraxas, stay behind for a moment. It's about the… Items I asked you to protect," the Dark Lord called out, and the Wizengamot Member and professional Assassin stopped in their tracks before turning to the Dark Lord.

The other Inner Circle members ignored this, and they all crossed over one of the bridges. Antonin headed for the southern bridge and look up the room he'd be staying in for now, looking back to see Malfoy hand over a weathered looking black book, and Lestrange retrieving a small cup from a pocket in his robes.

* * *

 ** _Corridor to Hospital Wing, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands_**

"Freedom at last," Harry grinned, as the doors to the Hospital wing closed behind him. Finally, after most of the day had passed and all of his friends, DA members, and a surprising number of other students had come by to see him, he was let out. Pomfrey was being merciful, for once, but it might have something to do with Dorea being there and talking her out of it. All of the injuries he'd received had been treated aside from the hallucinative aspect of the curse, and Dorea had successfully argued with her friend that there was little use to just keep him there with nothing to do. So, with a promise extracted that he would return the moment the hallucinations became too much, he was let out.

Of course, he was alone for the moment. His friends, not accustomed to Pomfrey letting a patient go early, hadn't expected him to be released until at least tomorrow. That meant he was free to do for now as he pleased. Especially since there was no use going to classes: his bag with all of his schoolbooks and parchment and stuff was still in Gryffindor tower where he'd left it for the Hogsmeade trip he'd planned before the kidnapping, and the time it took to get them and then head for where the class was taught, on the edge of the Forbidden Forest since it was Care of Magical Creatures, and the last class of the day, it would take longer than the time the class still lasted. So instead, having realised he was a bit hungry, he headed for the Great Hall. Supper was soon upon them, and he might as well go and eat for a bit.

To his surprise, he wasn't the only one there. Well, that wasn't a surprise considering he actually didn't have class with everyone from the school at the same time. No, the surprise lay in the fact he recognised someone.

Lily also already sat at the Gryffindor table, reading from an Arithmancy textbook. After a brief glance to ensure he hadn't missed someone (he had, but those were the less than welcoming Slytherins like Wilkes, Avery, the younger Gregory Mulciber, and to his slight disappointment Severus Snape at the Slytherin table, and an Edgar Bones deep in discussion with Amos Diggory at the Hufflepuff table), he headed over to her.

She looked up, startled as he sat down in front of her suddenly. "Hey, you're let out early," she pointed out with a smile.

Harry shrugged, sheepishly returning the smile at his mother. "My mother had a word with Pomfrey. My injuries are healed, and I was just turning to porridge while I was kept there for 'Observation'." He made a face at using the word. "Personally, I think she just likes to keep us Potters contained, to be sure we don't get into any trouble."

"Well, given the reputation of your brother, and now what happened with you… I can't say I blame her for thinking Potters never get up to any good," Lily pointed out. "I mean, your brother gets in the hospital wing at least twice a month for duelling Slytherins, or accidents in Potions, as well as finding excuses to be there with Remus whenever he's sick. And now with that kidnapping attempt on you, Neville, and Bones, it would seem to outsiders like you're just as much trouble as he is."

"Hey!" Harry said indignantly. "It's not like I go out looking for trouble, you know. It's just that it always happens to find me."

"Sure, sure," Lily said, with a mock-condescending tone and rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "You're always innocent. It's always your brother's fault you get in trouble."

Harry winced. "Well, not exactly. It's just…" He trailed off uncertainly, not sure how to explain Death Eaters had always had a peculiar interest in him.

Lily laughed. "Relax, Harry. I was just taking the piss with you."

Harry maturely stuck his tongue out at her, and got out the old Peverell Tome Luna had been so kind to deliver to him with a small bag earlier today, so he wouldn't be bored in the Hopsital wing. "So how come you're here already? Most of the others have classes right now."

Lily shrugged. "Arithmancy gave us a tough and long assignment for our double period, and Professor Pentecost said we could go as soon as we finished. Mary, Hermione, Remus, and I happened to finish early."

Harry nodded. "Okay. So where are they?"

"Mary went back up to her dorm to write to her parents," Lily explained, before donning a smile, and removing a handful of wands from her sleeve. "And I ditched Hermione and Remus in a magically locked classroom without wands. It was surprising how many Hermione had on her person, though."

Harry's eyebrows raised. "You left them alone in a locked classroom? Without wands?"

"What?" Lily asked defensively, as she put the wands away again. "Since we all got pulled back to Hogwarts immediately after your kidnapping, they never got their Hogsmeade date. And they'd been pussy-footing around it ever since. I just got tired of it and locked them away somewhere."

Harry chuckled, seeing how that might work. Not that that would go fast: Hermione was pretty conservative when it came to dating in Harry's original fifth year; she made that pretty clear when Seamus once asked her why she never went on any. And Remus would think it would be a burden for anyone to date him, thinking it would be dangerous for them to date a Werewolf and dealing with the backlash of that. It might take a while for them to actually do something about their feelings.

"Most people lock couples in broom closets, though," Harry pointed out, though he smiled to show he approved. Lily and James had to have had something in common for them to get together at school even if James matured a bit. And given Lily didn't enjoy broom riding as much, which ruled out Quidditch, and they didn't really enjoy the same subjects as much, that had left their mischievous sense of humour.

"Couldn't find one on short notice," Lily smirked. "I'm not as familiar with the castle's finer layout details as you and the Marauders seem to be."

"Be careful, though," Harry pointed out. "Remus might be the nicest of the four, but he's still the brains of the Marauders, and bound to take some form of revenge for that. And with Hermione to help him out…" Harry mock-shivered. "Be afraid, Lily Evans," he said dramatically. "Be very, very afraid."

Lily never lost her smirk during all that. "They can try. I happen to know a few things myself."

Harry laughed, and Lily joined in for a few moments. But then she went back to her Arithmancy book, and Harry opened the Peverell book. He wasn't worried about Lily or some other passerby trying to read it and its secrets: he'd found out early on the book needed a Peverell granting someone permission, as well as a drop of that person's blood for others not of Peverell lineage to read it. To anyone else, it would seem like unintelligible scribbles and doodling images James could have made during History of Magic classes.

They stayed like that for quite a while, both contently reading books in one another's company as they waited for supper. The Peverell Tome about Spell Bending (okay, it had admittedly more than that, but that was what he was focused on at the moment.) proved quite distracting, as its instructions required him to practice his Occlumency while attempting to do something wandlessly and nonverbally (it was apparently essential to do these at the same time) before it actually went to instructing on how to bend spells. And to his own disappointment, despite his apparent aptitude for all three as proven at Gringotts, he hadn't managed to cast a single spell without a wand, although he was getting better and better at nonverbal magic. So he practiced lifting the bag of books Lily had next to her on the table. It took up so much of his attention, though, that he almost missed the fact it was nearing supper time. He looked up, and saw a lot more people were in the hall already, though none of the people he was really close with. Shrugging, he closed the Tome, realising he couldn't concentrate here any longer.

He tried to ask Lily to do the same thing, to strike up another conversation with her, but was stopped from doing so as barks and hoots came from above, and he looked up. Owls came down upon them from above for a round of evening mail. Harry frowned bemusedly, as evening mail wasn't delivered often. Not to mention two Ravens were with them as well. And while he didn't know what it meant, judging by the paling from the people at the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw people upon spotting them, and the speculative look from most of the Slytherins and singular gleeful look from Wilkes, Harry knew it couldn't mean anything good.

He further paled when one Raven landed in front of Lily, holding its leg out to her, while from the corner of his eye he saw the other land near Severus Snape.

He wanted to ask what it was, but before he could Hedwig landed near him, and deposited a newspaper, the Evening Prophet, with the upper left corner torn off. Harry frowned, considering it odd, until he saw an owl not far away giving extremely angry glares at Hedwig, pieces of said newspaper still in its claw. Then he laughed. His owl had become so attached and protective of him, only she could deliver him letters and mail. Whenever she was around, anyway.

Sighing and now it was important, he thanked Hedwig and rubbed her chest while he read the front page of the article.

 ** _CALAMITY AT COKEWORTH: ENTIRE MUGGLE TOWN RAZED TO THE GROUND BY DEATH EATERS_**

 ** _By Hephaestus Belby._**

 _The attack on You-Know-Who's forces didn't go without reprisal. Earlier today, the Ministry was called in due to an excessive amount of magic in a single area, although casters weren't identified. In accordance with the Ministry's infamously quick response times, Aurors were sent immediately, including Alastor Moody, Anamaria Shacklebolt, Nick Proudfoot, and Rufus Scrimgeour. What was found, however, horrified even the experienced Shacklebolt and Moody._

 _The casters, as earlier said, were unidentified, having already escaped the scene, but a massive Fiendfyre, consisting of multiple Fire chimaeras, Fire manticores, and Fire dragons, was burning down roughly a quarter of the muggle town, with the remainder of it already lost. The Aurors on site immediately called for support, especially as seconds after their arrival they discovered the Dark Mark hovering above what is presumed to be the site where the Fiendfyre started. But the Fiendfyre couldn't be contained and extinguished before the town was destroyed in its entirety._

 _This reporter presumes the Fiendfyre was started in retaliation for the attack on He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's recently discovered hideout in the Muggle Manor near Little Hangleton, which was recently attacked by members of the Great Alliance after a number of the heirs of its founders were kidnapped and taken there. The resulting battle, while kept away from the Muggles by repelling charms and various wards cast by the Great Alliance, resulted in hundreds of followers of You-Know-Who being killed. It appears with this fire, that You-Know-Who didn't take that lightly._

 _No Wizards or Witches were killed in the fire as far as both the Ministry and the Daily Prophet are aware, but thousands, if not tens of thousands of Muggle lives were lost, with no survivors whatsoever from those that were actually in the centre of the fire, less so the bystanders on the edges of it. The Ministry Obliviators have ensured any bystanders will presume it was a simple muggle fire that got out of control, so the Statute of Secrecy remains intact. But the message from You-Know-Who is clear: He is set back, but not defeated._

Harry didn't read anymore of the article, smart enough to put the pieces together himself. Lily had mentioned once that she lived in Cokeworth, and that Severus lived nearby in the same neighbourhood. If the entire village was burned to the ground, that meant there were no survivors.

Lily, now tearfully clutching the letter, got up and ran out of the hall. Harry took a moment to reach across the table and stuff all of her books in the bag she'd left behind, as well as doing the same with his own, before grabbing it and his own and following. The moment of delay cost him, though, for when he got out she was nowhere in sight. Cursing, he wondered where she would go. While he didn't know her well enough to know what she would do exactly, he knew most people would do two things in grief: hide away somewhere and cry it out, or find some place secluded and destroy everything in sight. With Lily's temper and her caring nature, both were very strong possibilities.

Fortunately, the door outside was open, and the Marauders (minus Remus), Ron, Luna, Moliere, Vinnie, and Neville were just returning from Care of Magical Creatures. He ran up to them. "James, I need the map now," his own copy of it, he cursed his grandparents for once, was deposited in his trunk back at his dorm along with all the other possessions he'd had with him when he'd been kidnapped.

"Wha-" James started to question, a confused expression on his face. Harry growled, he had no time for this. Being alone in the corridors at this time wasn't safe for his mother, especially with how much more violent most Slytherins were in this time compared to his own. Add in her own anguish in which she wouldn't spot danger until it was too late, and it was a recipe for disaster.

"No time. I need it now!" he said, louder than he intended.

Without hesitation, Peter got it out and handed it over. Harry immediately said the password, and inspected the map even as the ink still formed. He soon spotted her, running up the Great Staircase. She finally ended up on the seventh floor. And with the corridor she just ran into, he had little doubt she'd go to the Room of Requirement to hide out. He blanked the map out again, so that by the time the Marauders had it up again Lily would've disappeared. The Marauders hadn't gotten about to adding the Room to it yet, so if Lily went in there she would be safe from their search.

"Thanks," he said, handing the map back to Peter before running up the stairs immediately. He didn't wait to hear their questions as to why, or their questions on whether he needed help, but he did close the door to said staircase behind him with a wave of his wand and Wingardium Leviosa. That bought him enough time for him to lose them, thereby needing them to consult the map, further delaying them.

He bolted up the stairs, taking them two at a time, racing up to the seventh floor. He ignored all the ghosts who asked where he was going, or Peeves who tried to pelt him with water from multiple buckets. He raced up to the seventh floor and headed for the room.

He found Lily just in front of it, looking incredibly angry at not being able to unlock the room. Most of the people were kept out by the Fidelius that had been placed on it by Hermione and Luna, but even then only he and the time travellers would know how to get in. And since Lily was only in on the secret and not on the method, it would be incredibly difficult for her to get in.

Upon seeing him, though, she immediately raised her wand at him, her furious expression turning to him. "Go AWAY, Potter! Get out of my sight!"

He winced. While he knew she likely didn't mean anything hurtful by it, he had seen his mother had quite the temper, so he wisely held his hands up in front of him. "Calm down, Lily. I'm only here to help you get in the room."

Lily kept her furious glare on him, but fortunately was still reasonable enough to give him a bit of space. He made three quick paces in front of the room, knowing he needed a room for her to vent in. Judging by her angry expression, she wasn't going to cry it out until she got her anger out of her system.

The door appeared after the third pace, and she immediately flung it open and stormed in. Harry quickly and quietly slipped in behind her, before moving to the edge of the room. As he'd expected, as soon as Lily was in the room she started hexing every dummy and target in sight. Every piece of furniture, every dummy, everything that remotely looked like it could be hit… If it was there, she was cursing it. Harry made to move as quietly as possible and stayed behind and away from her. He didn't want to get hexed by accident.

Lily duelled quite impressively. He'd seen so at the DA before, in which she defeated nearly everyone in her year (himself, Neville, and a few others excluded) and everyone in the one above as well, so only seventh years could beat her. It wasn't that she used particularly impressive spells or had a lot of magical power behind them in the DA usually, but she was very fast and surprisingly agile, and apparently a master improvising of using her entire environment and spell arsenal to her advantage. She animated the fragmented pieces of debris so they formed a floating ball, and flung it at a table with a dummy behind it with the force of a baseball. Like his grandmother Dorea did with the Bellatrix of his time, she froze one target instantly with a freezing spell before destroying it with what he was starting to fear weren't mere Reductos judging by the force of the explosions, but very powerful exploding curses.

And then she suddenly turned around, and her furious expression focused on him. He immediately froze. A Basilisk's stare had nothing on her wrathful glare.

" **DID. I. NOT. TELL. YOU. TO. GO. AWAY?!** " She ground the words out at a near shout, her wand slowly rising with each word to point at him. Harry edged backwards, not sure what she would do in her moment of temperamental fury.

"Lily, look-" he started.

" **EXPULSO!** " she cried out, and Harry's eyes widened as the curse sailed straight for his head. He collapsed on the ground to duck underneath just in time. Harry looked up at her, only to immediately roll to the side as another curse headed straight for him. He rolled twice more to evade more curses, before jumping to his feet and getting his wand in hand. He immediately shielded when she tried the freezing charm again, before ducking under the second exploding hex.

He ducked and dodged around her curses, but never fired a curse back. Not only did he not want to hex his mother, but she needed to vent. True, she would regret it if he was hit, being a good friend and classmate and all, but he needed to talk to her about this, and he had no doubt she'd lock him out of the room if he left. So he rolled when she sent a hex too unfamiliar to safely shield against. He shielded himself when she sent out so many hexes in a vengeful flurry he had no room to jump aside or dodge. He ducked when a conjured thick wooden pole was sent his way like a battering ram, and backed up as she advanced. He cowered behind conjured slabs of stone when neither dodging nor conventional shielding sufficed against her spells. He could hold out. While he didn't know how much Lily did in working out physically, he himself wasn't out of shape due to Charlus's training regime to undo years of Dursley malnourishment, and he knew he likely had more magical power to call upon, so she couldn't tire him out that way.

As if thoughts themselves made them happen, she started to pant from the exertion. The time between her hexes became longer and longer, and the variety between them decreased. Fortunately the curses she did still send were starting to become rather tame compared to earlier: mere Stupefy, Incarcerous or Petrificus Totalus hexes from the conventional DADA classe, rather than the violent hexes he was teaching the DA to defend against in the case of a Death Eater attacks (since said hexes required quite a bit of magic to perform at all, much less so often so soon after one another, it made sense she stopped using them and resorted to less taxing ones). After another minute of defending himself she even started to stagger a bit. He simply let her.

Finally, after another minute or so of hexing, the tears started to flow and she stopped her hexing. Instead, a wall appeared mere inches behind her, and she collapsed against it. Her energy and anger spent from her attempts to hex him, she was left with only the sadness and anguish about her loss. Evidently, she was both a venter and a cryer. He approached her warily, just in case she wasn't done venting her anger at the loss of her family yet.

But his caution wasn't needed apparently. He got close enough that if he reached out he could put her hairs out of her face, and yet she didn't react. Her wand lay next to her limp hand, as she sobbed and cried where she sat, her arms and legs limp and only the support of the wall keeping her upright.

He sat down next to her, and let her cry. He didn't know how long he sat there, and he didn't care. Aside from the remedial potions lessons, DA, and occasional regular classes where she'd try to sit with him this was the closest he'd had to a moment alone with his mother. Even if it was because she was grieving the loss of…

 _Merlin! I can't even get to meet my Grandparents from the other side of the family._

He cursed silently. Even back in his own time, his mother's parents had passed away far before he'd ever had a chance to meet them. But it seems fate liked being a right tosser. Half of the family he should've had, just gone. Like a flash of flame, considering how fast Charlus said Fiendfyre consumed human flesh.

And all in retaliation for the attack on Riddle Manor. Oh god, even these deaths were on him. It seemed no matter where he went, people died around him. His parents, Quirrel, Cedric, nearly his closest friends at the Ministry, nearly his father's side of the family when he'd first so crudely arrived at Potter Manor, the four coming to rescue him at Riddle Manor, and now his mother's side bit the dust.

" _It's all your fault, Harry Potter,_ " the hissing hallucinative voice of Voldemort whispered in his mind.

He sighed again, trying to keep Dorea's words from the hospital wing in mind, especially considering the hallucinations were now playing up, but it was hard. The others lost at the battle knew there was a chance they could die. They knew what they were getting into. But the Evanses… The closest thing they had to a connection to this mess right now was a daughter they had that was attending Hogwarts. And if that wa…

"I've lost everything, Harry," Lily finally spoke, interrupting his thoughts. He turned to focus on her, and tried not to flinch. He'd seen those eyes before. Not the fact they're emerald green, he knew he shared that with his mother. No, that hard look of pain in them beneath the tears, the hurt, the self-blame, Merlin knows how she got that in her head… He had had that look himself, the first few weeks at the Dursleys shortly after Cedric's death. It was a look that didn't befit his mother.

"How come?" he dared ask, though a deep pit in his stomach told him he already knew the answer.

"I've lost everything, Harry," Lily repeated. "I cut nearly all my ties with my old muggle friends through my negligence at maintaining contact and my enthusiasm about the Wizarding world. My parents were both only children, so I have no aunts or uncles I could move in with. My grandparents and all of their brothers and sisters have all passed away. Hell, even my in-laws from my sister's side aren't an option considering they were supposed to be over with my parents at supper by the time the fire was supposedly started. And now, with my parents and my sister both gone…" She hiccuped again and set herself off into crying again.

Harry grimaced. Indeed, from the sound of it, she had nowhere to go. In fact, she herself had just explained how her own family was now basically down to her unless one wanted to track down through generations of other descendants of ancestors. And her options at Hogwarts weren't much better. While Marlene herself was kind and supportive of Lily, she had made very clear that in the current climate her parents were too nervous about the subject of Muggleborns to even talk about it. There was no way they'd take one in. Mary herself had explained she had at least nine siblings and her parents, who like the Weasleys of Harry's time weren't that well-off, had another on the way, so that was out, too. Audrey might take her in, or Professor McGonagall, but he didn't think it likely. Audrey wasn't close to Lily, and with her Head of House and Deputy Headmistress duties, as well as escorting the new Muggleborns, McGonagall's summers were full as it was, and there wasn't much room to take care of a teenager full time on top of that. And while Harry didn't know enough about her friends outside of Gryffindor to make a good judgement call on them and their offers, he didn't think Lily would accept help from them anyway. It seemed, bleakly, that her only solution was an orphanage. And Harry immediately grimaced more intensely at those. He'd seen a few early memories of Voldemort in an orphanage, and though the experiences were brief, he knew instantly he'd rather go there himself than let his mother end up there. But where else could she go? There was little else…

Unless…

"Come stay with us," Harry said, right before the thought was even fully formed in his own head. Lily turned her head to him in shock.

"Come again?" she asked.

"You don't have to decide now. You can take a few days, think it over. But if you want, you can come and stay with us, the Potters I mean," he repeated, surprising himself even at the conviction in his own voice at the statement. Yet, the moment he said it, he knew it felt right. True, James and Lily weren't together in that sense yet, but spending time in the same building for long like that could do much to help thaw the ice on Lily's part, if Harry could work on James' maturity. It would also allow him to spend more time with her, something he wouldn't say no to. And on top of that, if he or his parents could get her to consent to letting blood be taken and for her blood to be adapted into the wards, they might be configured so they could become like the wards at Privet Drive, and power up the protection again that stopped Voldemort from being able to physically harm him, or even power up the old protection that stopped anyone out to harm them from even setting foot on Potter ground.

Besides, Ron, Hermione, Sirius, Ginny, and Luna were staying there full-time as well, and Neville, Remus, and Peter part-time. With a bit of shifting in the rooms, what was one more.

"We wouldn't mind," Harry explained. "Hermione, Ron, and most of the others that came with me from the continent are already staying there, too. My parents wouldn't mind. And you'll be protected there."

Lily's eyes glazed over a bit as she stared ahead, and he could see her mulling it over in her mind. He decided to try and press his luck a bit. "Besides, would you rather go to an orphanage than temporarily move in with a classmate until you're of age and willing to move out?"

Lily said nothing, looking down between her knees as she seemed to think on what he was suggesting. At last, to Harry's relief, she nodded.

"I suppose it could be worse," Lily admitted, hiccuping a bit at the end. "Alright, I… I think I'll come."

Harry let out a sigh in relief, and were it not for the fact the circumstances came about in such a horrible way he would've done a victory jig for his success.

"But can Severus come move in, too?" Lily added. "He's a friend, and also lived in Cokeworth. He needs a home too."

Harry nodded. If she'd asked it of him for the Severus Snape of his own time he would've objected vehemently. But this one, the one with appreciable wit and excellent skills in Potioneering and spell casting wasn't that bad. "I can't make any promises. He's from another house, after all, and he might object himself. But I'll put in a good word with my parents."

Lily let out a sigh of relief, and immediately gave him a fierce hug. He was caught off-guard for a moment by the suddenness and strength of it, but soon gingerly returned it.

"Thank you," she sobbed. "Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou."

Harry hesitated for a moment. He wasn't sure whether she was thanking him for the fact he offered her a home or promised to try and get one for Severus Snape, but he didn't think right now was the best moment to ask.

"You're… welcome," he answered a bit uncertainly. The hug was going on for quite a long time now, far longer than should be normal for just friends. Before he could ask her to, though, Lily let go.

"I'll tell Severus later," Lily said. "You'll talk to your parents, right?"

Harry nodded awkwardly, still in a bit of a daze from the long hug. "Uh… Yeah, sure. I need to go for that anyway." He quickly made up an excuse to go. As much as she needed the comfort at the moment, he felt too uncomfortable with how clingy Lily was acting right now to stay here much longer. "My father will be busy dealing with the aftermath of the Fiendfyre, as… As well as the consequences burning down an entire muggle village will have on the Statute of Secrecy, and I'll need to catch him before he becomes too deeply entrenched in the work."

Lily nodded, and waved him off a bit. "You go on. I… I need to be alone for a few moments anyway."

Harry nodded, dropped her bag next to her, and he left the room of requirement, headed for Gryffindor tower at a light stroll. It was during supper right now, and after reading what had just happened, not to mention having his own mother casting spells at him like she wanted him dead, he had lost his appetite. Besides, he wasn't lying when he said he needed to call Charlus. While he was sure the man wouldn't deny him, he wouldn't exactly be happy to have two more children stay over at the Manor, especially with how many were already staying there on top of him, James, Si…

Harry paled. He had just invited Severus to stay at his own home. A home also inhabited by the boy's nemesis' James Potter and Sirius Black. Not to mention roughly four or five children who had dreadful memories of the man's future self. With at least the first three living under one roof it was going to be chaos, not to mention if Lily decided to retaliate on Severus' behalf. He rubbed his face, cursing his own Gryffindorish stupidity. God, he hadn't thought that one through.

"Knut for your thoughts?" a voice asked behind him, and he turned around. To his relief it was merely Amelia standing there, rather than a rule-abiding prefect or an inquisitive Marauder who'd badger him senseless until he told them everything.

"They're worth more than that," Harry retorted before letting out a sigh. "I made a stupid mistake."

"You're a Gryffindor, Harry. The other houses expect you to make mistakes," Amelia retorted teasingly, before smoothing her face over to a more sympathetic expression. "But seriously, what did you do?"

"You know of the burning of that muggle town, Cokeworth?" He asked.

"It's the gossip of the school already," Amelia confirmed. "Dad and Auntie are pissed it came within an inch of breaking the Statute. Luckily the Greengrass Lord and later on the Minister of Magic managed to reason it out with the Muggle Prime Minister and arrange the cover story it was a pair of forgotten bombs from the Muggle World War that had gone off and laid waste to most of the town, with the resulting fires igniting gas mains burning down the rest. The only reason it worked was because there were so few witnesses close enough to it to deny it, all of whom could be memory-charmed to believe that."

Harry nodded, ignoring for the moment the Prophet had said there were no survivors or close up witnesses at all due to the large scale of the fire. He wasn't a stranger to the fact that the newspaper loved to sensationalise things and liked putting the truth on a back burner. "Well, long story short, because of that two of my classmates have lost their families in that fire, and thinking it was a good idea because my brother has a crush on one of them, I invited them to live with the Potters, completely forgetting the fact that the other is so antagonistic with my brother that I might have to bury the body of one of them one week in."

Amelia's eyebrows rose. "You invited Evans and Snape to live with you? So soon after they lost their families? Bold, Harry. Very bold."

"Why is that bold?" Harry asked. "It's the right thing to do."

"True," Amelia admitted with a smirk. "But still, to invite one so smitten with you to live with you long-term… Not even my aunt would do that so permanently."

"Smitten?" Harry asked, confused. "Who's smitten?"

"You don't know?" Amelia asked, surprised. When Harry shook his head, she let out a loud sigh. "Ah, how I wished I never lost that _naïveté_ to my aunt."

Harry's brain worked overtime. Severus couldn't be it, for he had his everlasting crush on Lily, and from what the Sirius and Remus of his of his own time had told, Lily never seemed particularly interested in anyone until his father matured, even if she went on a few dates. So…

"Have you never noticed how Lily always keeps trying to sit with you in classes as often as possible?" Amelia asked him. "Or how, despite barely going to any of the games and never any of the practices, she always is there in the crowd whenever you play Quidditch? Or how when you coincidentally work in the Library with her near the same table, she always sits so she can look at you inconspicuously?"

"What are you talking about?" Harry tried to deny. There was no way his mother had a crush on him. "She never-"

"Harry," Amelia interrupted him, shutting him up. "Face it, you're a physical copy of your admittedly handsome brother, only kinder, friendlier, better work ethic, better behaved, does much less questionable activities, and you are humbler than the average Hufflepuff. To be honest, half the upper year girls probably thought of asking you out. And maybe even a few guys, too."

Harry paled, as all her points sank in. Try as he might, all of the earlier points he couldn't actually deny: he was identical in looks to James, and those points had been attributed to him so many times by others in the Hogwarts of his own time even he couldn't possibly deny them. Well, aside from the dating part, but back then he had the bane of being the Boy-Who-Lived hanging over his head. But here, now…

Oh, God! My Mother _fancies_ me.

He groaned. "Oh, bollocks."

Amelia laughed. "I get you were trying in your own way to set her up with James. His crush on her is known even to first year Hufflepuffs. I even think it's very sweet of you, to do that for your brother. But as long as you're around that isn't going to work."

He groaned, cursing Potter Luck, Fate, Murphy's law, and destiny a hundred times over. Of all the things that could happen when he time travelled in the past, of course the thing that actually happened was his mum wanting to date him. Oh, he would never live this down if the others learned of it.

Then, he recalled something Amelia said earlier, and smirked. "So you find me handsome and sweet, huh?"

This time it was Amelia's turn to be slightly embarrassed, as her cheeks tinged red slightly and she turned her head away. "Well, with that messy hair, and your muggle fashion sense whenever you're not in classes… You do have that roguish look that I like."

Harry blushed this time at the compliment, but still continued on, having too much fun to stop now. "Well, thanks for thinking so highly of me and my looks."

Amelia shook her head, amusement apparent of your own face. "You know, you truly have the mouth of a Potter. And I don't mean that your lips and cheeks resemble your father's, though at some angles they do. No, that smooth way with words around women, the creative curses and swear words I've heard so far, the wit used against those that vex you… Those really have a distinct Potter flavour to them," Amelia paused, then smirked again. "If Evans does end up with your brother, in fact, she'd fit in perfectly with her own wit."

"Thanks," Harry said, smiling even as he couldn't stop his blush from receding, even with his new emotional control granted by Occlumency. "But that flavour you spoke of… With all those compliments, I'd almost assume you wanted to taste it."

"Shush!" she said quickly, her own blush now so strong it dominated her cheeks and neck entirely. "It's too early for that, Harry."

Harry nodded, realising that she had a point. "Right. Getting to know one another better first," he smirked. "In lieu of the Hogsmeade meet-up we missed, shall we sit together in the kitchens tomorrow at supper? The House-elves won't mind, and since the ministry is still reviewing their security measures for Hogsmeade we won't know when the next weekend will be."

Amelia nodded. "Sure. Talk a bit over a good bit of food. A good start."

"Great," Harry smiled, before it dropped. "I gotta go, though. I haven't told Ch- my father yet about the plan for Lily and Severus yet, so I need to tell them now rather than spring it as a late surprise."

Amelia rose her eyebrows again. "Wow! Even doing this without informing your father? That's true courage."

"More like reckless and impulsive stupidity," Harry admitted, silently a bit relieved Amelia hadn't noticed his slip-up with how he addressed Charlus. That would be a mess to explain and he wanted to avoid that. "Hence why I unfortunately have to go, or the following punishment for it might be worse for delaying."

Amelia nodded in sympathy. "Good luck. You'll need it."

Harry nodded, and made his way back to the common room. Everyone else was still at supper, so it would be abandoned. A perfect time for a call to Charlus. Soon he was at the portrait of the Fat Lady. He stopped mere instants from uttering the password when he heard a very loud " ** _WHAT?!_** " echo throughout the halls. Well, at least Severus has been informed of the proposal. He said the password and stepped into the common room, heading for the bowl of Floo Powder above the mantle and taking a pinch. While actual physical crossovers between fireplaces were blocked in Hogwarts except for professor's rooms and offices, the fires in the dorm rooms did allow for simple calls to others. Harry was told it was to appease influential members in the Wizengamot and allow easier contact between them and their children. Harry, though, suspected it was so Death Eaters could relay orders or dissatisfaction to their children in the school more easily than letters, which could in turn be easily intercepted.

Taking a deep breath and bracing himself for the following conversation, he grabbed a pinch, tossed it in, and called Potter Manor.

He half hoped the Potters wouldn't be home due to a meeting with the Great Alliance, or out dealing with the aftermath and backlash of the massive Fiendfyre, but that hope was dashed when Charlus himself answered immediately, his head appearing in the fireplace. "This is Potter Manor, who- Oh, hey Harry."

"Hey, Dad," Charlus startled, and then smiled at being addressed like that by Harry, before frowning at Harry's tone and expression. "What's wrong?"

"I made a rash mistake," Harry admitted. "Can you get Mum and Fleamont? It'll affect them, too."

"They're in the room with me," Charlus explained, his frown deepening at the implication that it was severe enough that it needed their involvement. "The fireplace might be too small to hold their heads, but they can hear you and you can hear them when they talk. Now, what did you do? Get a girl pregnant?"

"What?" Harry asked, horrified they considered that he would. "No!"

"Get someone killed?" Fleamont called from the background, though it sounded more like a joke to him than something serious.

"No," Harry persisted. "Nothing that grave. But it does involve our living situation."

"You didn't enter a marriage contract by accident, did you?" Fleamont asked. Charlus actually turned his head in the fireplace to glare at where Fleamont sat in the room, somewhere behind and on the left of Charlus. "What?" Fleamont asked, sounding indignant. "You know it can happen. Remember Mathias Vogel? OUCH! Charlus, restrain your wife!"

"I'd like to think my children know better than that, thank you very much, and you deserve everything she'll do to you," Charlus growled out, before turning his head back to Harry. "Now, since we eliminated the worst of possibilities, tell me what's wrong."

Harry sighed. "Well, long story short: You know of the muggle town that was burned down?" At Charlus' pained nod, Harry continued. "The families of two students lived there, and as far as I know they have nowhere else to go. I… kinda invited them to come live with us."

Charlus looked surprised for a moment, before letting out a weary sigh and rubbing his face, his hands briefly appearing in the flames. "Harry, I swear, the situations you get into are enough to drive the average adult into an alcohol addiction. What on Godric's Sword possessed you to do something like that without consulting us?"

"Harry." This time it was Dorea. "If it's up to me, I'm fine with taking in one or two of your friends from school. But you can't just drop things like at on us at the drop of a hat. The Manor's already quite full with Fleamont, Euphemia, Sirius, and your other friends. Where do you put the limit?"

"There's more to it," Harry admitted, quieting them. "One of them… Is my mother."

Charlus' face immediately cleared. "Oh."

"I take it I can't mess with future in-laws any longer?" Fleamont asked, although he no longer sounded as chipper.

"Fleamont," Dorea growled out, effectively silencing Harry's grand-uncle (though Harry supposed that if he was to see Charlus and Dorea as his actual parents, Fleamont was his actual uncle).

"I didn't think it through that far when I invited her," Harry admitted. "I only thought of the advantages: her and James getting together sooner, the chance to spend more time with her, and…" He trailed off, realising he hadn't discussed this part with his parents yet. "We might be able to reactivate the protections from before."

"Protections?" Fleamont asked curiously. Harry nodded, even if he doubted the man could see it.

"On her…" He paused, remembering there might be portraits in earshot that could relay this to Dumbledore." You-know, she activated an old blood protection, that ensured he couldn't get to my residence or harm me magically, or even touch me physically, so long as I was there with a blood relative for a few weeks. And while he could hold me under the Cruciatus back at the Manor, when he tried to backhand me with his hand it got burned."

"The Blood-protection worked again, huh?" Charlus mused, his hand rubbing his jaw in thought. "Interesting. I'll have to ask Seraphina and Cassiopeia to take a look at the wards to see if we can configure them so that Lily and Harry's presence there charges that protection up again, but it'll likely need quite some blood from her, or-"

"Brother, you're digressing," Fleamont gently chided.

"Right, sorry," Charlus apologised, before turning to look at Harry again. "That's smart thinking of you. But next time, discuss it with us before making any promises or offers. And simply inviting your mother shouldn't have you as nervous."

Harry smiled knowingly, glad he and his father knew one another well enough already that they could tell that much. "Heard it in my voice didn't you?" He asked rhetorically, before letting out a sigh. "My offer was initially only to Lily, but she would only come if the other student who lost his family could come to… And that student is Severus Snape."

"Oh, bollocks," Charlus immediately cursed. "Dorea, hide the bottles, this'll really drive me to alcoholism otherwise."

"Why?" Fleamont asked, frowning. "What's wrong?"

"Let me put it this way," Dorea said, and Harry winced as he practically heard the grimace in her voice. "According to Minerva, the relationship between James and Severus is just as bad as the one between Charlus and Arcturus for their first six years at Hogwarts, only neither has a sister the other can fall in love with."

"Oh," Fleamont simply said. "Should I grab the popcorn or a Riot Shield? Wait, Dorea, put the wand doOWOWOWOWOWOWOW! BLOODY HELL, THAT HURT, WOMAN!"

"One more lame joke about this, and that spell'll hit your 'family jewels', Fleamont," Dorea threatened. "Capiche?"

"Si, si," Fleamont said, his voice much more subdued. "Mi compehendre."

"Your Spanish is still terrible, if that was meant to be Spanish at all," Charlus informed his brother. "Oh, this makes for a right mess."

"For what it's worth," Harry sheepishly added. "I only said I would put a good word in for him, not that I would actually succeed."

"Well, what's the good word then?" Fleamont asked. "For he might be a skilled Potioneer, but I don't want duels to the death in the family Manor every other day of the week simply because James can't hold his tongue."

Harry blanched, realising this was where he had to convince his parents to take Severus in as well. They really weren't looking forward to resolving every little dispute between him and James. He cleared his throat, before starting to speak. "In contrast to how he's be expected to be later, he's been an excellent Potions tutor to me so far, taking the time to explain the things I don't get and actually giving handy tips on how to improve my potions. He's been nice to me, and…" Here Harry paused, not realising it this was this way before, but here it was. "And I consider him a friend. Not a particularly good one, but still a friend."

"Besides," he added. "He's a highly talented Potioneer, capable of challenging most adult Potion Masters even now. If we don't take him in, the chances are the wrong people in Slytherin could. You said yourselves his mother was at least a good acquaintance of the Malfoys, and despite hanging out with Regulus Black and Cyrus Greengrass, he also willingly spends much time with future Death Eaters like Wilkes and Avery. Without us, they might take him in, and influence him so he's still driven into Voldemort's arms."

Charlus was silent, his face contemplative as he thought Harry's points over. "Valid points," he admitted. "You're right. We have to do something, or others will manipulate him in his grief-minded state and still drive him in Voldemort's arms. But having him at Potter Manor will be… challenging, considering how he is around James."

"I'll take him in," Fleamont volunteered, and Charlus turned his head again in surprise. "The cottage in Godric's Hollow, while well-maintained, hasn't been used in a while. Euphemia and I could briefly move in there and be his guardians until he's of age and wants to move out, and from there he'll be able to Floo over every other day to spend time with Harry or Lily, so he has people his own age to act with."

"What of Sleekeazy?" Charlus asked. "You can't just drop a multi-million galleon company like that just for him."

"I've been training a protege for a while now, who's overseen the business alongside Hyperion while I've been here," Fleamont admitted. "Catharine Kowalski-Goldstein, a bright and intelligent girl with a good business acumen, not to mention an instinctive Legilimens from her mother's side. During the summers and other holidays I can still be over and be with you all, and let her have control of the company for the summer on a trial basis, in preparation for when I eventually retire so she can take over. And once summer's past, I Floo over there for a few months again to ensure I'm not making a mistake in trusting her with this much already. If she can handle it, I can stay here full time afterwards while she handles things until Severus is of age."

"And if she can't?" Dorea asked. "I know you trust her, and I'd like to too, but given I'm still a Black, I feel inclined to play the devil's advocate."

Fleamont sighed. "Worse comes to worst, he'll either have to stay with you guys after all, or we'll have to think of something else."

"We'll deal with that if it comes up. I'll Floo Minerva and Horace to talk about taking those students in for the holidays. For now, let's focus on other matters," Charlus interrupted them before they could go down that melancholy road, and reset them on immediate and more concerning matters, something Harry was thankful for. As much as he might have come to resent him when he'd been older, the younger one wasn't the bitter professor yet, and Harry didn't want to think of the worst-case scenarios that could happen if they couldn't take care of Severus (as unlikely as it was, given the sheer number of families in the Great Alliance that might want to take him in).

"We got the Locket you gave Dorea, by the way," Charlus said. "It befouls the atmosphere of anyone in close proximity,"

"Like any powerful Cursed Item does," Dorea added from the background.

"But beyond that it initially appears harmless," Charlus continued despite the interruption from his wife. "We're still trying to figure out what its enchantments and compulsions will do exactly, but from initial diagnostic charms performed on it we do know that it used to be an incredibly powerful talisman, one capable of protecting its wearer from even the strongest of mental attacks, be it Legilimency, Imperius, Veritaserum, Insani- whatever the bastard used to control Amelia: all means to subvert control of the mind will be futile against whoever wears it. And in spite of what He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has twisted it into, those initial enchantments of the Talisman still seem active."

"We were thinking, if we could undo the curses and such," Fleamont added from the background. "That it might one day be a powerful tool in your arsenal, and keep that meddlesome coot with too many names and Lemon Drops from trying to read your mind."

Harry nodded in agreement. Having such a talisman would be very useful. It might allow him to focus his Occlumency on the spell-bending from the book while not worrying about any attacks on his mind. But for now, with the curses they said might be on it, they wouldn't give it to him.

"That would be nice," Harry agreed. "Having my mind to myself would be a nice change of pace, considering what I've lived with most of my life." He was sure the others got the double meaning about the Horcrux in his head. "How long before that's done?"

"Quite a while, I'm afraid," Charlus said with an unfortunate grimace. "Identifying all the curses and jinxes alone could take weeks, and months if we're going to remove all of them, without affecting the Locket's effectiveness."

Harry sighed in disappointment, but wasn't all that surprised. While such a thing would be useful, having a locket that rendered him immune to all forms of mental assault fall into his lap wasn't just going to happen. That only happened in fiction.

"Still," Fleamont added in the background. "Better you know it's in the works and remain hopeful it's finished soon than… Well, being the usual broody Potter. I've heard from my wife it tends to put off the ladi- OOOOOOOOOOWWWWW!"

"I didn't even see what one she used and I know you deserved that one, brother," Charlus said "Or do we need to repeat the Mousehound incident?"

"NOT ON YOUR BLOODY LIFE!" Fleamont yelled so loudly Harry was sure half the tower heard. "BY ALL THAT IS HOLY AND SACRED ON THIS MERLIN-FORSAKEN PLANET NEVER SUBJECT ME TO THAT TORTURE AGAIN, DOREA URSULA BLACK! ARE YOU TRYING TO PUT ME OFF FROM GIVING YOU NEPHEWS AND NIECES?!"

"Serves you right," Dorea retorted, and Harry could practically hear the smug smile she wore. "I did warn you I'd aim for family jewels. And as my brothers and sister undoubtedly taught you at Hogwarts, Blacks make good of their threats."

"Speaking of the devil…" A new voice entered. Charlus startled, briefly withdrawing his head from the fire before returning barely a second later.

"I gotta go, Harry. A meeting I can't miss is about to start. Anything else I need to know?"

"Nothing urgently," Harry assured, though he was a bit saddened Charlus had to go away so soon before they had a chance to just talk. "Go on, we'll catch up later."

Charlus nodded. "Be careful," he warned, and the fire returned to its normal orange state before Harry could ask for clarification.

Well, at least the problem with Lily and Severus was mostly dealt with. Sure, Charlus and the others still had to talk with the respective heads of houses, but both seemed very amiable with the Potters, judging by their reaction to Harry and James, so there shouldn't be much trouble on that front.

Now, to tell Ron, Neville, James, and the others of the new living arrangements…

He sighed, and settled to wait. He'd rather have that conversation here in the privacy of the dorm than out in the Great Hall or even the Common Room. So, he simply set the original copy he'd nicked from Peter back on his bed, and settled to wait, reading even more from the Peverell Tome to pass the time.

Clearly the conversation with Charlus and the confrontation with Lily lasted longer than he'd thought, for he didn't have to wait long. He heard the loud voices of the Marauders coming up the stairs. The door opened, and James, Sirius, and Remus led all the others boys into the dorm. They all stopped when they saw Harry.

"Harry," James said, concern evident in his tone as Peter broke off and pocketed the map before one of the others could swipe it. "What happened when you ran off?"

Harry sighed, and gestured for them to sit down, which they all did. Even Moliere gently shoved some of the dirt collection gently aside so he could sit. "Well, long story short, I have really good news and really bad news. Which do you want to hear first?"

"Good news first!" Sirius immediately called before any of the others could suggest anything else. "It's better to have a good start and a terrible ending. That's what I always say."

"No wonder you're doing so terrible for OWL preparations despite your terrific first few years," Joshua called, earning good-natured chuckles and an indignant mock-offended look. Harry smiled as well, before sighing again, mentally preparing for the rant that came with inviting Snape to live with them.

"Well, you guys know of the Fiendfyre at Cokeworth by now, right?" Nods all around. "Well, two students lost all of their families in that fire, and I… accidentally talked them and Charlus into having them come live with us. Well, one with us and one with Fleamont in the Godric's Hollow cottage." More nods, although they were tentative, and Neville and Joshua had worried looks. "The good news… The first of them is Lily."

There was a pause, as everyone looked surprised, although he caught a flash of understanding across Ron's face. That was all he caught before someone crashed into him and he fell backwards onto the bed, knocking the Peverell tome off the bed and onto the ground.

"Harry, you small squirt, you just became my favourite brother!" James laughed, before racing onto his feet and running to a grinning Sirius. "You hear that, Siri?! Lily's coming to live with me!"

Harry had to smile at the genuine joy on his father's face as he happily bounced around the room saying that to everyone's face. True, Lily and James had a long way to go before even becoming friends, much less the loving husband and wife duo from the old timeline everyone praised them to be. But if he could temper down James' immaturity, then combined with this it would go a long way.

"Hah, you hear that Remmie?! I told you Lils would come with me eventually!" James laughed happily, finally settling with crashing into a grinning Remus. Remus laughed, before roughly shoving James off of him, promptly letting the marauder crash onto the floor.

"Well, hold your horses, guys," Joshua said, who despite an earlier smile, still held a skeptical expression. "Harry did say there was bad news."

Most of the others immediately sobered up and looked at Harry again, though James still had a Cheshire grin on his face. Harry nodded.

"Yes," he paused, sighing. "The other. The bad news bit, the one going to live with Fleamont… is Snape."

When he realised the others and Snape were going to live in relative close proximity together, or at least see one another far more regularly, he knew this would get extreme reactions. Ron and Hermione hated him for his treatment of Harry, despite Hermione's respect for him as a professor, and Ginny hated him too to a slightly lesser extent. Neville, on the other hand, feared him for his constant criticism of his potions and the extremely abusive and derogative commentary in the original timeline, to the point Severus Snape became Neville's Boggart despite seeing his parents being tortured into insanity at the age of one by the most dangerous and psychotic witch of the century (it had mellowed somewhat due to the more tolerant behaviour of the teenage Severus, but it was still there). And James and Sirius hated him for the ongoing rivalry between them for being in different houses and James and Severus' shared interest in Lily, the former of which was fuelled to more extremes now that the Marauders knew how he would treat Harry simply for being James' son. Combine all these, and getting the reactions in the same room, and he was not expecting any happy dances or jigs.

He was not disappointed.

"WHAT!" Sirius shouted in shock, Peter's face silently mirroring Sirius' own as his jaw dropped, as Ron and Neville's expressions turned as if Harry had just announced he'd considered becoming a Death Eater. Joshua muttered a simple "oh boy," under his breath while Vinnie, Remus, and Moliere looked surprised. To Harry's own surprise James was reacting quite well, his face showing he was rather conflicted, likely weighing up the pros of having Lily nearby for his remaining Hogwarts years versus the cons of having Severus along for the package.

"Are you insane, Harry?" Neville asked. "Inviting Snape to come live with us?! After all that he's done to James?"

"And what he will-" Ron tried to continue, but Remus, having an amazing bit of foresight, stomped on Ron's foot before Ron could blurt out about Harry's animosity with the future Snape.

"Before you continue," Harry interrupted them pointedly before the rant could continue. "I didn't invite him myself. I invited Lily, and she said she'd only come along if we could also make arrangements for him as well." Well, technically that was a lie as Lily had only asked, rather than demanded, if Harry could take Severus in, but he wasn't about to give the Marauders any more footing than they needed to.

"Ah, bollocks," Remus moaned, rubbing his face with his hand.

"Harry," Sirius said, forcing his tone to stay calm and even, though his expression and heavy breathing still betrayed his dismay and anger at the prospect of even more prolonged contact with his schoolyard nemesis. "Snape is a Death Eater in all but name. Look at who he associates with: Bradford Wilkes, Gregory Mulciber, Blake Avery, my brother, and how close he was with an awful lot of my relatives like Bellatrix and Narcissa in previous years, as well as the Carrow Twins. And let's not forget how he knows more about the Dark Arts than half the school and staff, including Clarke. I'm telling you Harry, letting him even within a mile of our home is a terrible idea."

"Come on, Sirius," Remus groaned. "He's also very good friends with Cyrus, Roxanne, and Stephen, and you know from experience they're not that bad. Neither is your brother, or Gregory's older brother Graham, for that matter. True, he's quite despicable to you and James on occasion, but you two give as good as you get. Besides, Lily sees something in him she can trust."

"Oh, forget that childhood friendship shite," Sirius spat, turning on Remus. "He's a child psychopath waiting to be unleashed. And let's not forget Hogsmeade-"

"What happened at Hogsmeade?" Harry asked, interrupting the tirade.

At once, Sirius lost most of his anger and looked a bit sheepish. "We never informed you, did we?"

"That attack where they kidnapped you," Ron explained when for a moment it appeared the others wouldn't. "Luna was flung from the cart, but was conscious and mostly unscathed. She was stunned before she could help, and from the angle it appeared only Slytherins could have done it… Including Snape and those you had lunch with."

Harry frowned. "Okay. I admit it looks suspicious. But if Severus wanted to kidnap me, he could've arranged it long before then with one of the potions tutoring sessions. And from what I've seen of them at lunch and the DA so far, the others are alright, too."

"Really, Harry," Peter argued, speaking up for the first time. "Think about this. What if they're right, and he's the one that did it? Do you really think having him in your home would be the right idea?"

"Come on, guys. Back us up here," Sirius said, encouraged by the support Peter gave him. "Please, help me break through this tosser's skull and talk him out of this."

"Nuh huh," Joshua immediately said, holding his hands up in surrender and backing off. Vinnie and Moliere also shuffled backwards. "I'm staying out of this. This is your family dispute, not mine."

Sirius pouted in disappointment, before turning to his immediate left, where Neville stood. Neville, though, shrugged. "Look, I dislike the guy as much as you do, Sirius. Believe me, he creeps me out. But I trust Harry more than I hate him. And if he says it's ok, I'll believe him."

"Me too," Ron said. "He might be a right git, but I don't think we should just turn him away, you know? What would Hermione say? Or Lady Potter?"

Sirius scowled, realising Ron had a point. "Alright, point. We want neither on our necks. But really, are Wormie and I the only ones thinking this is a bad idea?"

"No, I'm with you two," Remus said. At Harry and Ron's surprised looks, he elaborated. "I might agree with you guys that Severus isn't the evil guy Sirius has him made out to be. But with my furry problem and his inquisitiveness… it's a miracle he hasn't found out already. It'll be an outright disaster waiting to happen every time I come over."

Sirius nodded in agreement, before they all turned to the only one that hadn't made his opinion on the matter of Severus becoming a Potter ward known. A fact Harry was surprised by, considering the history between the two. James still looked very conflicted.

Upon realising he was now the one expected to answer and break the unofficial tie-breaker (Joshua, Moliere, and Vinnie keeping out, with the Marauders on one side and the Time travellers on the other), he looked up and spoke. "As much as I hate to say this… I agree with Harry. Snape should come along."

"WHAT?!" Sirius yelled. "You can't be-"

"No, I'm not you, Sirius. I'm much better looking," James joked, before returning to the matter at hand. "It's not because I like the guy suddenly. Every student here in Hogwarts can attest to that. But he has nowhere else to go but Death Eater families, and I'd rather have someone like him stay away from them than fall even more deeply into their influence."

"Oh, get off your high and mighty throne, Prongs," Sirius scowled. "You're just agreeing to take him in because Evans won't come live with you otherwise."

"Partly true," James admitted unashamedly. "But he isn't staying at the Manor with us. He's staying with Uncle Fleamont at Godric's Hollow. And if having him over a few times a week means Lily gets to live with me in the Manor for the rest of our Hogwarts times, I can accept that."

"But-"

"Besides, if you are right, Sirius, and he is a Death Eater, then all the more reason to take him in," James interrupted again. "Remember that muggle saying Dad picked up in the Caucasus when fighting against Grindelwald's Reapers and Christopher Gyst?"

"Oh for Godric's sake," Sirius muttered under his breath as he walked away, obviously having heard this many times before.

"Keep your friends close-"

"And your enemies closer," the Marauders and Vinnie all finished together.

"If he's a Death Eater, it'll be easier to keep an eye on him if he's living with one of the Rascals. No, either if you believe he's more than an annoying pest or a Dark Wizard waiting to happen, the best course from here on is to agree with Harry and Charlus, and take them both in."

Sirius grumbled and walked over to his bed, giving his trunk a kick as he did. Harry sighed, glad that issue was at least tabled, if not resolved, and turned back to the Peverell Tome, picking it up gingerly and closing it. His gaze passed over Remus as he did so.

Then he got an idea, and smirked. Knowing what he did about where Remus had been, the Werewolf's reaction would be hilariou.

"Oi, Remus," he called a bit louder than necessary, getting the attention of everyone in the room. "Nice hickey for a first time."

Remus' eyes widened and he blushed as all of their dorm mates turned to him as he rubbed his neck. "Awww, man"

"Just kidding," Harry grinned, and the Marauders turned in surprise before grinning at Harry's prank. "Thank you for confirming my suspicions, though."

The others laughed quite hard at that, and thus the Death Stare Remus gave him that promised unrelenting retribution wasn't as effective. Harry noticed the twitch at the corner of his mouth, though, and winked, congratulating his friend on a well-spent afternoon and supper.

* * *

 **Well, that's that. Next Chapter: Locket investigation, two sisters reconcile, first class with Clarke, and Lily meets the Potters**

 **Please, also check my promised side story: Through the Looking Glass**

 **Adios,**

 **Lucian Valerious**


	8. Chapter 8

**(Dramatic voice) Is it a bird? Is it a plane?**

 **It's another Chapter!**

 **As I requested last time: Read, Review, and Enjoy**

* * *

Chapter 8

 ** _Croft Manor, Surrey, England_**

Croft Manor wasn't the largest manor Bella had ever seen. Nor was it the most beautiful or memorable. In fact, it had taken a moment of recall using Occlumency to ensure she had the right manor, it was that… bland. But it had no need to be memorable. The Crofts had little need to impress. They were well-enough-off and the Lord had a career that sustained his luxurious lifestyle. Not to mention the need to blend in somewhat since their Manor stood close to highly muggle-populated areas, since notice-me-not and muggle-repellant wards only helped hide so much. As such, there were no animated peacock statues as at Malfoy Manor, or animated skeletons guards out to harm unwelcome visitors as at the Ancestral Hall of the Bones family, known as the Ossuary. No, the only outstanding thing of the Crofts was the massive Library, rivalled only by famously larger ones like those at Hogwarts or Alexandria. And the Croft Library was much more varied, due to Lord Croft's tomb-raiding career leading him to countries like Cambodia, Egypt, Nepal, Peru, China, Romania, and Mexico's Yucatan Peninsula, to simply name the ones Bella knew of, and his lack of a Curse-Breaking contract with Gringotts allowing him to keep everything he finds for himself.

And the guests at the moment were as varied as the subjects he was knowledgable in as a result. The original Rascals lined the table, as did a number of their friends from abroad. Her stately Aunt Cassiopeia; her go-to people for the annual vacations in France, the handsome Maurice and Appoline Delacour; the elder muscular-yet-slightly-rotund head of the Russian counterpart of the Ministry of Magic, Aleksei Romanov; the well-cultured bespectacled black-market fence known as Howard Fletcher; and a rugged-looking man in a dark purple trench-coat simply identified as Lucian, who upon questioning simply explained that he was to the Great Alliance as Fenrir Greyback was to the Death Eaters: an ear and a persuasive person inside the international Werewolf community that could persuade a number to at least remain neutral in the conflict between the Death Eaters on the one side, and the Order of the Phoenix and the Great Alliance on the other. There were others, but Bella didn't know them and neither side had any desire to identify themselves. One thing she did know, though.

By the looks of some people or what she knew of them, everyone aside from a number of the Rascals present was either very knowledgable in history and historical artefacts, or an expert in Dark Magics.

"Bella," a voice said behind her, and Bella cringed. There was a coldness in her voice that hadn't been there the last time they spoke months ago. Then again, with the words exchanged the last time around, Bella shouldn't be surprised. She'd made the mistake of calling the young woman's husband a dirty mudblood, after all. An insult not easily looked past.

She turned around in her chair, facing her sister. "Andi. A surprise to see you here."

Andromeda Black regarded her sister coolly, her face a bland mask as if she were greeting an infamously impolite stranger. "I take it you were called in for your knowledge of the Dark Arts and related curses."

"Just as I take it you were called in for your knowledge of Countercurses," Bella acknowledged. "Grandfather warned me you would also come."

"A greater mistake he couldn't have made," Andi practically snarled, reaching in her robes for her wand. Bella quickly grabbed her hand before she could. Half the crowd would take it the wrong way if she did draw it so suddenly, and hex first and ask questions later, regardless if both Barons and most of the Rascals were present.

"Andi, we need to talk," Bella said. "We have unresolved issues between us, and I'd rather air them somewhere private than have either of us blow up in present company."

Andi nodded, wrenched her arm loose, and swiftly strode out of the room. Bella followed a few seconds behind, hearing her grandfather mutter "About bloody time they did that," as the door closed.

As soon as she did and turned around, Andi grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into a side room, a small sitting room.

"Alright, we're here. Now spit out what you want to say," Andi hissed, her blank emotionless expression replaced by the sneer the Black ladies and women have been infamous for. "Or did you come here simply to try and persuade me to end my marriage and marry into the Yaxleys like grand uncle Pollux wanted me to?"

Bella bit her lip. It shouldn't be this difficult. The sisters had always been close, even when their male cousins started to drift off due to Walburga's influence. But with how angry Andi was now, regardless of how much right she had to be… Bella found the words were stuck in her throat.

Then she swallowed what was stuck. She was a Black, and if there was any lesson she had absorbed from her grandfather's teachings, it was that Blacks never backed down in the face of someone opposing what they stood for… Even if it was your family or friends doing the opposing. Judging from her choice in husband Andi had done the same thing. Now it was Bella's turn.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Andi blinked, her jaw becoming slack in shock. Bella couldn't blame her: in all of the sisters' and cousins' history together, only Andi had ever apologised for someone, the other members either too proud or too fearful of the consequences of doing so, considering the irrationality of members of their family like grand uncle Pollux, Aunt Walburga, or even her own parents. It would genuinely be a fi-

She keeled forward and her breath shot out of her, her gaze briefly focusing to see Andi's arm withdraw. Bella's eyes widened in surprise, briefly gasping when her lungs caught on to the fact all he air had been knocked out of her. As she gasped for breath, Andi pushed her against the wall, pinned both her wrists above her head with one hand, and used the other, her good one, to point her wand at Bella's throat.

" _Who are you_?" Andi growled. "And what have you done with Bellatrix Black? I swear, if you bend even a single hair out of place…"

Bella, having finally gotten her breath, realised Andi must think her an imposter for apologising to her. She had to think fast, to recall a memory only the two of them, or at most the rest of the cousins and their sister, would know. Then she figured out one that would convince her. It was painful to recall, not to mention embarrassing for both of them, but it was the only one she could come up with.

"Summer of nineteen seventy," Bella immediately began, speaking rapidly to ensure her sister didn't cast prematurely. With both her arms pinned, winded, without a wand, and a hostile one almost touching her throat, her very life was at risk. "The summer at Grimmauld Townhouse, when both Black Manor in Ireland and the ancient Black lodge were emptied to recast the Wards after Great-Grandfather Sirius Black the second had neglected to check the wards on either for years and a fluctuation cost grand uncles Lycoris and Regulus the First their lives and turned Marius into a Squib." Seeing recognition flash across Andi's eyes, Bella quickly continued.

"We were fifteen, and about to enter the Hogwarts express for our sixth year. We caught Regulus and Sirius, our younger cousins that is, playing a game of throwing balls to determine who could hit the most house elf heads in one go without missing. Aunt Walburga, all furious about the fact someone was messing with her head collection, caught us all in the same place, and in panic, the three of us ratted Sirius and Regulus out, and we were forced to watch as cousins five years our junior were put under the Cruciatus for five seconds as punishment. We were all ashamed of it, and you came back to them later to apologise to Siri and Reg, and you were the only one forgiven as a result. Cissy and I stayed behind, too ashamed to do so as well."

Bella waited with bated breath, as pain clearly flashed across her sister's face. Then, to Bella's relief, Andi let her wrists go and removed the wand from her throat, although she still had it by her side. Bella immediately dropped her wrists and rubbed them.

"We agreed never to tell anyone about that," Andi said, pain evident in her voice as she remembered that rather shameful moment. "Alright, so you _are_ Bella, even if you picked a rather lousy memory to prove that."

Bella flinched. "Yeah, I'm sorry for that, too." Andi's eyebrows rose in surprise at the second time Bella apologised in five minutes. But Bella continued on regardless; Andi could get over her surprise later. "I was beginning to panic, and latched onto the first thing I thought of, ok?"

"You're forgiven in that instance," Andi comforted. "I did put you on the spot there."

Bella smiled. "You do have a… wicked right hook, right?"

Andi smiled back, the first time she did so at Bella this evening, or since the argument at Grimmauld, for that matter. "Right uppercut, technically speaking. But I'm glad you know of them at all. Most Purebloods don't."

"So where did you learn to do that?" Bella asked.

Andi's smile became a rather grim one. "Ted and I aren't the greatest with duelling, so we figured we'd learn some muggle self defence techniques as well, to compensate. Figure that if we're close enough to them we can still defend ourselves even if we end up wandless."

Bella's smile grew. "Good for you, Andi. I might take up some of those classes as well. Had a few too many close encounters this year to not consider it." She thought back about Riddle Manor, about how Crouch and the Lestranges almost had her, and would've had it not been for Longbottom. She frowned at that. She still had to meet him to acknowledge the Life Debt she owed him for that.

"So, what's up with you that has you apologising to me all of a sudden, and about the fact you, someone the Rascals know as a Death Eater, are attending a meeting determined to stop You-Know-Who?"

Bella sighed, pulled up one of the chairs and sat down. Andi immediately did likewise.

"It started at Hogwarts," Bella admitted. "Back when I was already betrothed off to the bastard son Rudolphus, even if I managed to delay the wedding itself, indefinitely it now seems. He and his brother were approached by a small group of Blood Supremacists called the Knights of Walpurgis."

"The predecessors of the Death Eaters," Andi acknowledged. That was before someone had come up with their symbol for the Dark Mark and more aptly named them Death Eaters.

Bella nodded. "I had a plan to be the best I could be, so I figured that since Rudy and Raba were going to join up I might as well do the same and try to one-up them. To summarise the years since, I got caught up in my dream, bought into their whole vision on Blood Purity in the process, jumped up the ranks by my successes against Muggleborns, and… Honestly, I toed the line a few too many times. I became more and more of a fanatic as the bloodlust got to me. It was during that time we had our meeting where I scolded you for dating… Ted, wasn't it?"

Andi nodded. "So what changed?"

Bella sighed. "Grandfather shook me awake. I won't describe it in detail about all that was shown, but…" Bella rubbed her face. "The Dark Lord split his soul, Andi. Multiple times, in fact. There are lines even I don't want to cross, and doing that, or serving someone willing to do would cross a number of them."

Andi had paled considerably. "No."

"Yes," Bella contradicted. "Ask Grandfather after the meeting, and specifically ask for the word Horcrux. He'll show you what I mean. We intend to show the same to Regulus this coming Christmas, to disabuse him of repeating my mistakes."

Andi nodded. "And after you learned that, you left."

"Not immediately, but yeah," Bella admitted. "I left during that raid on Riddle Manor a few weeks back. Helped a few prisoners escape too," she sighed. "When I learned what I did, I had a lot of time for thinking on my hands. About our world. The whole issue of Blood status and whatnot. They… I'm not suddenly starting to spout Dumbledore's rhetoric and say they're saints. After all I've seen and been through while…" She paused, deciding what she had done as a Death Eater was better left unsaid. She was no saint, but the means Muggles would go to to save themselves… A handful had literally thrown their children at her to save their own hides, so her view of them would always be mixed no matter what. "There's no coming back from that. But… Maybe they aren't all the louts and naffs and mongrels I made them out to be either." She paused, grinning. "They can't be if you fell hard enough for one of them to marry him. You have better taste than that."

Andi chuckled. "Great minds do think alike," Andi agreed.

"So, as I tried to say before you almost killed me, I was wrong in my beliefs and what I said, and I apologise." Bella paused.

Andi paused a bit, her eyes glazed over briefly, and Bella feared for a moment if her sister was going to refuse, and hate her like the Longbottom boy seemed to…

That fear vanished when her sister smiled. "Oh, with that kind of apology I can't stay mad forever, can I?" She laughed, before pulling her sister into a hug. Bella stiffened for a bit. The last time the sisters openly hugged like that, aside from helping one another recover from physical trauma, was before Hogwarts. But, remembering how good it felt to have an older sister, she relaxed and returned it.

"It's good to have my sister back," Bella laughed.

"It is," Andi agreed. "But you still need to apologise to Ted in person. In general he's very forgiving, but he can hold a terrible grudge if you don't."

"Hufflepuff protectiveness," Bella mock-huffed. "Oh, and here I thought Ted would take over your Slytherin tendencies."

"I like to think we each take over the better parts of the other," Andi grinned. "His hard work and devotion, my cunning and sharp wit, his caring nature, my powerful presence whenever I enter a room… Our shared tendencies in the bedroom…"

Bella cringed. "There are points where sisters don't need to inform each other of certain habits. Come on, the rest of the room's likely waiting for us by now."

Andi nodded. "Right. Time to get to work."

And with that, they both headed back to the dining hall elected for the meeting point. As expected, the room was full except for the sisters' respective chairs, which happened to be beside one another.

"Well that took a long while," Lord Bones' sister noted as the two took their seats, her eyes raking over Bella. "And you look quite rumpled. Had a good time?" She coyly asked, winking suggestively. Andi blushed furiously, not at all comfortable with the suggestive things being laid out.

Bella, though, was ready to give as good as she got, ignoring the way her grandfather was glaring at Lady Bones. "Well, Andi's preferences did come up, but we decided to shelve that for later. Suffice to say, we did agree we prefer pricks over cunts."

Andi looked scandalised, and her grandfather shifted his glare from Lady Bones to Bella herself. Lady Bones' though, simply smiled suggestively.

"Don't worry, Dear. I have plenty of strap-ons, in all the shapes and sizes you could want."

"Richard, can you please tell us why we're here before my sister tries to start another orgy?" Lord Bones whined, looking at the Lord of the Manor. "And both of you, please stop encouraging the other? My wife feels uncomfortable around my sister's commentary as it is, no need to get the latter aroused while she thinks of them."

"Quite," Lord Croft agreed, before lifting his wand and shooting sparks across the table towards a doorknob, effectively ending all side discussions.

"Right, as all of you know, we've recently attacked Riddle Manor, and greatly diminished the forces that Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord who goes by the nom de guerre Lord Voldemort, has at his easy disposal." There was a light cheer that went all around as people congratulated one another, which quickly fell silent as Lord Croft cleared his throat.

"During that attack, Baron Potter's second son recovered this Locket," Lord Croft said, ending the disillusionment charm on a bust on the table in front of him, of a person's neckline and upper chest, with a locket hanging from it on a steel chain around the neck. It was mostly silver, but with a golden background on the front of the locket for a dominating green serpentine S.

"It's a powerful Talisman the Dark Lord mentioned earlier had at his disposal, that in short provided impenetrable mental defences, to the point that neither Veritaserum nor a Legillimency attack by someone of Dumbledore's power would be able to break its protections. The Dark Lord, however, has added many curses, jinxes, and hexes to it, requiring the help of most of you to break it," he said, gesturing around the room.

"Hence the Dark Aura that most of us who are more sensitive to such magics have been detecting," the half-Veela Appoline Delacour said in English, surprisingly without a French accent.

"Correct," Lord Croft said. "Something about the Locket intrigued me, though, and I felt compelled to consult with a great variety of people well-versed in history such as myself." He gestured to Lucian, the Delacours, and Howard Fletcher, whose frequent practice of fencing objects required he knew of their history to determine their value. "And after extensive experimentation, investigation, and cross-referencing, I discovered one amazing thing, and one terrible thing."

"What eez ze good bit?" Maurice, Appoline's husband, asked with the distinct accent of his home country.

"Since both facts are very astonishing I'll be very frank," Lord Croft said, before tapping the locket with his wand. "This is Salazar Slytherin's long-lost Locket."

Bella's eyes widened as many around her started chattering excitedly, unknowingly clutching the copy fraud she wore around her neck. Her family had known they never had the real one, but it was a symbol of status that they'd been able to replicate it so well from various historic writings. Nowadays it simply served as a Portkey to Black Manor, but given how proud most of her family, both the lovable, tolerable, and despicable members, was about having such a thing so alike the Founders' relic, Bella still thought fondly of it.

"The terrible thing requires a bit of explanation," Lord Croft silenced the room once again with his words, and with a wave of his wand a blackboard appeared, with chalk-drawn lines and images detailing a stick-character with a snake head likely personifying the Dark Lord or a Death Eater, with six lines going out from him. Two ended in question marks, but a few had images next to them: a book, an H, an R, and the locket. "We know through well-placed sources and grounded reasoning that You-Know-Who has made himself physically immortal. He's done so by splitting his soul into pieces and storing them in objects. Horcruxes, these despicable objects are called. We know his end goal is to create seven soul pieces, his own body and six Horcruxes, but so long as a single Horcrux remains, he cannot die." He sighed heavily, before picking up the Locket and laying it on the middle of the table.

"Gentlemen, Ladies; this is a Horcrux," he said.

Bella stared at the object in horror. Voldemort had turned it into a Horcrux? Voldemort had the stones to turn his own inheritance into such a foul abomination?! She turned her head, and saw her sister was about to become quite sick. Doing her a favour, she conjured a bucket and cast a silencing charm so people wouldn't hear her retching.

"Zen what arrre ve vaiting forrr?!" Romanov shouted, immediately raising his wand. A black-coloured curse that seemed to suck in all light around it, giving it a pure white edge, immediately sailed from the Wand. It struck dead on, but contrary to what many, unlike Bella and the founding Rascals, seemed to expect, the curse rebounded straight towards a suddenly-fearful Romanov, but Baron Potter reacted quickly and using a summoner pulled a serving plate directly into its path, saving his life. The plate shattered into a million bits of ash, which immediately evaporated.

Romanov didn't have a moment to look relieved, though. Her grandfather immediately grabbed him by his robe collar, and slammed him onto the table, making even the solid bust vibrate. Some, like Lord Croft and the Delacours grabbed their wands, and Lucian reached inside his dark purple trench coat. Others, like Baron and Lords Potter, Greengrass, Davis, and Longbottom, simply stayed their hands and watched impassively.

"Look, Aleksei, I don't know how you handle things in Moscow," her grandfather growled, a furious expression on his face. "But to be frank, I'm not in the most patient of moods. So help me, if I ever catch you using that curse in the same room as my granddaughters again, I will wipe out your entire family, down to last in-law like the Muggles did to your Squib counterparts in the February Revolution, alliances and political consequences be damned. Am. I. Understood?!"

Aleksei nodded, though he still held a glare of his own. "Trrransparently, Barrron Black."

"Good," her grandfather nodded, and pulled the man back off the table. "Now sit down and put your wand somewhere it can't curse your own arse off."

"иди к чёрту." (1) Romanov muttered as he straightened his clothes and sat down, and from his tone Bella had the idea his comment was not all that complimentary.

"As those of us that had read up on the subject in advance had known," Lord Croft said pointedly. "Horcruxes, by their very nature as soul containers, anchors, and protectors, are very difficult to destroy. The only known things that can are Fiendfyre and Basilisk venom, neither of which will be used on my grounds."

"So we take it elsewhere," Lucian suggested. "And destroy it there."

"I'm sorry," Howard Fletcher contradicted, looking at Lucian over the rim of his glasses. "I might be the only one crazy enough to think like this right now, but do you have any idea how much this is worth?" At the incredulous looks of nearly everyone else, he continued. "Granted, we need to destroy the Horcrux, but if we can separate the Horcrux Magic from the locket itself-"

"We'd get an invaluable working Slytherin heirloom," Aunt Cassie finished, leaning in in intrigue to get a closer look. "Granted, it would take weeks of research and experimenting to be sure, not to mention the method's likely going to end up using Dark magic. But given he managed to get his soul to leave his body in the first place, theoretically it should be possible to separate the Horcrux from the locket."

"Theoretically," Lucian frowned sceptically. "I say that's too great a risk. We should destroy that abomination, before he learns we have it and he hasn't simply lost it in those fields somewhere and one of the Muggles simply picked it up."

"As much as I hate to agrrree," Romanov added, giving Lucian a knowing look, "Lykan is rrright. Ve kannot allow kontinued existence of such foul zing. Verrre ve in my home kountrrry, zis vouldve been destrrroyed ages ago."

"And let such a priceless artefact be lost forever?" Appoline asked. "I think not! Even in France Slytherin is a well-recognised wizard of talent, and his artefacts will not just be destroyed out of hand due to misplaced paranoia."

"Besides," Andi asked beside her, having recovered from her retching at last and giving her own suggestions. "Can't the Goblins clean it up? They have that security measure they installed after the Grindelwald War, right? The Thief's Downfall, that washes away all enchantments and charms?"

"I like where you're going with this, but no." Howard said with disappointment. "Your idea would also destroy the enchantments most of us value it for, leaving us with nothing but an antique we know the origins of. Besides, Thief's Downfall has a flaw. If the enchantments on a thing are six months old or older still, the Fall ignores them. Otherwise it would ruin any artefacts the old families would want to store in their vaults for safekeeping. Trust me, I've checked. Still, asking the Goblins if they can undo it might be a good idea. Their magic works differently than ours."

Lucian turned to Howard in amusement, though various of the other attendees did so in concern. "And do we wanna know how you actually know that much of the Goblin bank security?"

"My family and I have a life outside the Great Alliance," Howard simply answered, leaning in to look closer at the locket. "Let's just leave it at that."

"I'm sure," Baron Potter nodded. "Let me reiterate, though, just so you remember: as long as you don't damage our alliance with the Goblins or sell to You-Know-Who and his allies, I don't care what you do."

"No worries, ol' Charlie," Howard simply said, leaning back and pulling out a lighter and cigarette. "I know the lines you drew then, and I steer clear of any and all Dark Lord business now, as promised." He lit his cigarette and drew in a breath before letting out a disgusting cloud of smoke, which made Bella cough, and cast a transparent bubblehead charm around herself, as well as a very soft banishing charm to blow the smoke back at him. The man was too stubborn to be bothered by it, though, not even raising so much as an eyebrow when it came back, much less a cough. "I know I can't outfight or outrun even one of you Rascals, so I know not to tempt you." Howard's eyes narrowed. "And I know Ol' Turie's still looking for an excuse to hex me and Flemie here anyway, for that prank in '39."

"I was forced to attend classes starkers for a week," her grandfather growled out, and she and her sister shared an amused pair of raised eyebrows. That sounded more like something Cousin Siri and his Potter friend would do. "Including teaching the Defence League and Quidditch finale against Gryffindor, and a week before NEWT's. Did you really think I would forget with all the stress and grey you two caused me?"

"Oh yeah," the Americanised Lord Potter chuckled. "In retaliation for you hexing the hell out of my brother for sleeping with one of your sisters. Fun times."

"As much as I enjoy hearing about your scandalous escapades," Lucian cut through before her grandfather could raise a retort, "How did you find out about this? From what you say, Horcruxes are a very obscure bit of dark magic, precisely because they are such foul things. How did you even know to look for it, or even figure out what it was?"

Bella turned her head to the Rascals that were clustered together, as did Andi, and Aunt Cassie and the majority of the table, for that matter. Baron Potter took one look around the table and groaned. "How many of you were at the summer meeting in late July, or had been informed of what was discussed by the heads of their families?"

Bella noted surprisingly few people raised their hands, although the Rascals, a still-grumbling Romanov, the Delacours, Howard Fletcher, and three people she didn't know, did raise them or give vocal confirmations. At the confirmation of his likely fear, Baron Potter sighed.

"Right, before we discuss anything further, I hereby declare that willingly informing anyone who is neither in the Great Alliance nor under an Unbreakable Vow to remain silent, of what we just spoke of in this meeting, to be in breach of the Alliance."

Bella took in a sharp breath through her nose, and around her many people gasped in shock. Many people in the United Kingdom, or even Europe, took the Alliance as a sacred order or something. Bella had to grant that there were numerous exaggerations along the line as to how powerful and important and brilliant they were, but the Great Alliance members were numerous, well-regarded by the general populace, many in Europe desired to become prominent members, they were well spread over Europe and had connections in every other continent (even, to Bella's shock when she found out, Antarctica), and had substantial influence. Even disregarding magical consequences of breaching an Alliance one was magically sworn into, which in turn were nothing to sneeze at, to breach it was to declare oneself a traitor to the Alliance, and with the various darker families in it would soon find the one breaching with a large price on their heads.

And since most of Grindelwald's surviving best soldiers, spies, and assassins, coined the Grim Reapers at the time, had turned to bounty hunting and outsourcing themselves as magical private military contractors, there would be no safe place for them to hide or run, if Charlus offered high enough a price. And given the Lestrange family, who were some of the Dark Lord's most magically powerful servants regardless of the skill or intelligence of the younger brothers, had taken to hiding at a Fidelius-protected property when not at their heavily-warded Manor or directly at the Dark Lord's service due to the massive number of attempts on their lives since the bounty was placed on them a year ago, Bella knew the Grim Reapers were to be righteously feared.

In short, Baron Potter had just declared that speaking of this would get them killed for sure, by someone else's hand if not his own. And it shocked Bella the worst reaction it got from the other Rascals was a mere frown from Lord Davis, a raised eyebrow from her grandfather, and sigh from Lord Longbottom.

A single hand was raised, and all turned to a concerned Lucian. "And where do I stand in that, considering my… _wandless handicap_."

"You're a muggle?!" Someone further along the table shouted in shock bordering on near-outrage before Bella could even formulate her thoughts on the matter.

"Lycan, actually," Lucian corrected, the smile from earlier gone, replaced by a look of silent anger at her prejudice, and Bellatrix was slightly concerned to see his eyes turn a disturbing shade of yellow as he stalked towards the offender. "And I assure you, Fitzgerald, I do not need either a full moon or a wand to tear you limb from bloody-"

"Enough, Lykan," Romanov said, putting himself between the Lycan and the now-cowering witch. "Woman isn't vorrrth spilling blood over, and zerrre isn't enough rrroom forrr you to change. Let herrr be."

Lucian growled, and Bella carefully slid her wand and the identical older copy of it the Longottom boy had given her in her own hand in case it got violent, doing the best to shield her sister with her own body. But fortunately the man's eyes returned to their original pale blue colour, and he backed off and returned to where he used to be seated. Romanov himself also nodded at Lucian, before giving the cowering witch his own glare as he returned to his seat.

"Lyal Lupin can ensure you live up to it on the magical parts," Lord Longbottom said after a moment. "You have mutual trust, and he fits quite well in your community despite his own lack of Lycanthropy."

Lucian nodded, before simply returning to stare at the Locket, carefully avoiding looking at anyone else in the room.

"The reason I consider this such a grave matter," Baron Potter continued now that tempers had cooled a bit, "Is that while he doesn't remember the encounter specifically, Tom Riddle has met my son Harry before. In fact, he's the reason my son was educated abroad in the first place, an enormously powerful potential heir more powerful than the most threatening Dark Lord of our age; we had little choice."

"It's also why Harry has that scar on his forehead," Lord Potter took over. "When he was young, barely two years old, the Dark Lord came to his original sanctuary. The woman we'd charged with taking care of him died to protect him, and her sacrifice powered a ritualistic shield she'd prepared earlier that allowed him to survive the killing curse. The Dark Lord Voldemort was driven off and obliviated by the backlash, but it left Harry with numerous things. Giving him magical proficiencies he didn't have before, and enhancing the ones he already had, becoming a Parseltongue, the man's memories…"

"And a semi-unstable Horcrux," Lucian finished with a sigh. "Figures this had to be complicated."

Bella frowned. That would certainly be enough to upset the Dark Lord. He had certainly been thorough enough in hiding nearly everything about his past, and someone finding out about his past, much less finding out about his method of immortality, would certainly do it. But it still left holes, though. Why didn't the Dark Lord recognise him, even after the Legilimency? Why had Bella not heard of the encounter before now? After all, such a defeat would be heavily discussed outside the Dark Lord's presence even if it was well over a decade ago. Besides, why did the boy's best friend, the Longbottom boy, hate her so much despite having never encountered her before. He didn't seem to glare as much at the Death Eaters holding him up during his tortures, although she had to admit he was pretty vicious in dealing with her former brother-in-law and attacking her betrothed and Crouch. But no, his behaviour and that of his friend was too odd. She needed to know more.

Howard Fletcher, though, frowned. "But judging by how much he lacked in Dark Magic back then, not to mention you had him brought back this summer, doesn't that mean there's a way to remove the Horcrux without damaging the container?"

"That was a one-off," her grandfather dismissed with a wave of his hand. "Involving a dangerous dose of time magic and events we actually had no hand in or control over. Even if we knew all that went down back then, which we don't, I wouldn't try to repeat it even if we had every Unspeakable on the planet at our backs. No, we can't repeat that."

"A pity," someone else further down pouted, and Bella wasn't surprised to see Unspeakable robes on someone near the origin of the voice.

"In any event, since unlike what some people may believe, we're neither a dictatorship, nor an oligarchy," Baron Potter declared before another word could be put in, ignoring Lord Bones' snort at the last one. He continued on regardless. "We're a selective democracy, which lets experts on matters decide, not superstitious-"

"Idiots," Lord Greengrass coughed, which made Bella smirk.

"People who don't know enough about the subject matter to have a right to vote on it," Baron Potter steamrolled over it. "I have heard three suggestions so far: to destroy it, to try and break the curses ourselves, and to let the Goblins have a crack at it. Any others?"

"Use it to pull loose the stick up Crouch's arse?" Lady Bones offered with a smirk, causing a number of them to chuckle.

"Any serious suggestions? And not a word on Arcturus' grandson, Archibald. I know you."

"Buzzkill," Lord Davis muttered, but aside from throwing a crumbled bit of muggle paper kept himself fairly quiet.

"Alright, no new suggestions," her grandfather said when no one spoke up. "Alright, Hector, keep track of the number of votes. Raise your hand if you wish for us to destroy it."

Lucian and Romanov clearly raised their hands, but they were a clear minority. Only one out of six people voted with them, certainly not enough to overrule the others.

"Nine." Hector nodded and gestured, and people lowered their hands. "Raise your hands if you want to let the Goblins handle this."

Significantly more people raised their hands, and Bella had to strain to look around the masses in the room and count them all, spotting Howard Fletcher, a bit startled when she recognised her former classmate Lana Shafiq, and her sister raise their hands. Lord Longbottom spoke up before she could finish, though.

"Twenty six." Lord Longbottom said, and all lowered their hands again. "Alright, now raise your hands if you want us to try and undo the curses and cut loose the Horcrux ourselves."

Bella raised her hand this time, as did Aunt Cassie and the Delacours. But they were clearly in the minority, though not as strongly as those wanting to destroy the Locket. Curiously, none of the Rascals voted.

"Thirteen," Lord Longbottom said, and Bella lowered her hand. "That decides it, then. Tomorrow, the Locket will be taken to Gringotts, where Ironfeet and Griphook will try and find a way to undo the curses. Any objections, aside from the usual about losing your vote?" Lord Longbottom gave a pointed look at Romanov, who growled in annoyance.

There were none, and they were all swiftly dismissed from the room. Just before Bella could activate the Portkey and return to Black Manor, Andi grabbed her arm.

"Bella," Andi looked at Bella with a rather nervous expression. "Could you… track down Cissy for me? I want to make things up with her as well, return to the tight group of sisters we once were. But she's nowhere to be found. Not at any of the Black family properties, not at any written under her name, and not even at the Leaky Cauldron or the Three Broomsticks."

Bella nodded. "I know where she is," she reassured her sister as they left the Manor and walked through the Croft Manor grounds. In the distance, she saw a young adult girl practicing archery, but dismissed it from her mind. "She also learned the same information about the Dark Lord that I did, and she elected to leave the country, to stay reasonably safe."

"So where is she?" Andi pressed, though she seemed less nervous and frantic than earlier, now that she knew her sister was safe.

"Sleekeazy's Potions Labratories in the Colon- in the United States of America," Bella corrected herself, remembering that the United States had stopped being a colony of England a long time ago, even if she'd only recently learned it from Cissy's letter. Magical Britain really was behind the times when it came to worldly knowledge, regardless of how it viewed itself. "She's pursuing her dream of getting her Potions Mastery. I don't know the specific address, though; Lord Potter and his people act as messengers instead of having the address written down, to keep her safe."

Andi nodded. "You think they'll let me write to her too? I wanted the three of us to share Yule together, along with any eventual partners, but if she's staying in the US…"

Bella smiled, and firmly grabbed her sister by the shoulders. "Andi, I can assure you: if you write Cissy a simple letter describing how we talked, and that she has nothing to forgive herself for considering it was me doing all the verbal abusing, you'll find she'll happily come spend Yule at 'Chateau Tonks' with us."

"Tonks Cottage," Andi fondly corrected. "I'd love that."

* * *

 ** _Defence Against The Dark Arts Reserve Classroom, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands_**

"Come in, Harry, and close the door behind you please," Professor Clarke said, calling for Harry to come inside. Harry did as instructed, closing the door behind him. Today, this morning, was his first extra tutoring session with Professor Clarke. He'd brought all of his wands, as well as his Invisibility cloak and all of his defence books, since he didn't know whether he'd be doing primarily practical or theoretical work.

The classroom, though, was surprisingly dark. Professor Clarke stood in the centre, writing with a piece of chalk on a blackboard, only a single small bluebell fire lighting up the centre where he was writing, while all the rest of the room, including the door he entered through, was covered in shadows.

"Come here, Harry," the professor beckoned him towards the blackboard. "Don't skulk in the shadows."

"Why, sir?" Harry asked, arriving in the centre and putting down his bag.

"I brought a few specimens for my NEWT students when I was hired," Clarke explained, "Dark Creatures I'd rather not expose just about anyone to. They're rather sensitive to bright things like fire and light. And movement, for that matter."

Harry frowned. "If they're that dangerous, why do we meet here? Why not in the original defence classroom?"

"Simple," Clarke explained, finishing his work on the blackboard and finally turning to him. "There's just as high a chance of such creatures attacking you on sight as there is of Voldemort using them. After we're going over the basics of what I'm going to teach you and train you in, we'll be going over quite a few of those creatures. Besides, the Potters and Dumbledore don't agree on what you need to be taught, and he has placed monitoring wards in the primary defence classroom. And since the creatures here are my responsibility, I control most of the wards here."

Harry still was puzzled. He agreed with the man's assessment that Dumbledore was too meddlesome for his own good, and understood the benefits of why he needed to be taught here, especially since Harry and his friends still had the Room of Requirement under Fidelius. But didn't the man know everything that happened in this castle?

"He had placed wards here, yes," Professor Clarke said, and Harry looked away when he realised he spoke the last bit aloud, "But they only monitor the creatures and keep them from escaping, and check if people entering and going from here wear Dark Marks to stop them from interfering. But as long as we don't cast anything to release them, like large explosive spells, we should be fine."

Harry nodded in understanding, even if he still believed quite a bit could go wrong. Who knew if the Headmaster had placed additional monitoring wards that could detect what spells were used, after all? "All right."

"Good," Professor Clarke said. "Now, co-"

Professor Clarke was interrupted by an inhuman shriek that came from one corner of the room, and Harry turned in surprise, covering his ears as he did. His eyes widened, and he ducked as something jumped at him.

It was a gruesome, horrifying sight. It looked vaguely humanoid, with a human body and the appearance of a human head, limbs, and appendages like hands and feet. But that was where the similarities ended. The creature had a light grey appearance bordering on white, and had elongated limbs and a taller, apparently emaciated body so it was easily two, nearly three times as tall as a normal human. Its skin was flayed, almost absent, as if the muscles and bones had grown while the skin had not, and the latter had been torn apart as a result. Its nails were lengthened, and though they were thin, Harry had the idea that with the force it jumped and clawed it had incredibly strong muscles. Its head was also different: bald, eyes pale and white, although an iris was still visible, and the teeth were lengthened until they were nearly pointed fangs. Strangely enough, it also had a butterfly tattoo on its upper right arm.

It stopped short of him, held back by a collar and chain around its neck that likely led to either the wall or ceiling, and even on the floor with its long limbs outstretched, it was still three feet short of reaching Harry.

A banishing charm hit it, and it was banished back into the wall. Harry turned gratefully to a grim Professor Clarke.

"Ah, Hannah decided to introduce herself early, did she?" he sardonically remarked, as Harry turned back to the creature. It glared at them, the blue light of Professor Clarke's fire reflected in its eyes, and gave one last shriek of annoyance at them before it retreated into the shadows again. "Well, let's get this one out of the way then. Harry, meet Hannah: the recently captured Inferius specimen courtesy of the Ministry of Magic's Department of Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"An Inferius?" Harry asked. He knew he'd heard the name before, from Charlus' warning about creatures Voldemort might use, as well as in a passing conversation at the Slytherin table, but had not gotten an accurate description at either time, and the conversations had moved on before Harry could ask.

"Basically an undead corpse mutated by Dark Magic," Professor Clarke explained. "Originally a cannibalism-related Necromancy curse only native to the United States, the Inferius is a dark and foul thing. Intelligent, strong enough to bash a skull in and rip an adult half-giant's head off with relative ease, faster than Flitwick on Stoppered Speed… And deceptive. My first partner was lured into the open by it when it tossed a flask she'd lost bare hours ago not three feet from his hiding place, and lost her wand hand when she tried to retrieve it. My last partner was lured into a trap by one because it learned to mimic said partner's husband. Would've lost his jaw if I hadn't summoned him out of harm's way."

Harry stared at where he'd last seen the Inferius in horrified fascination. "That thing was once human?" What on Earth could possess someone to create such a thing?

Professor Clarke nodded. "One of my godchildren, to be precise. Hannah Washington."

Harry turned his look to the professor. "Oh, Merlin. I'm-"

"Don't," Professor Clarke said, and his grim face turned to one of professional indifference. "She'd been missing for over three years before the Aurors found her in the Rocky Mountains. Besides, I never told anyone, so there was no way you could know. Anyway, after the year is done I'll take care of her."

Harry stared at Professor Clarke. Harry didn't know what he would do if someone he cared about had turned into… This. If he thought about it, he would prefer death, a permanent one, than becoming something like this. How the Professor would take care of her, he wouldn't likely want to know. Or, in which way would he do so? Would he put her out of her misery, or would he _actually_ care for her, keep her alive as long as he could?

Not liking that train of thought, considering how little he knew about the man aside from that he and Fleamont were friends, he instead asked. "How do you deal with an Inferius?"

"You stay away from them if you can," Professor Clarke answered grimly. "Keep your distance, because they can cross two dozen meters nearly as fast as you can blink. If you can't avoid them, don't move."

"Don't move?" Harry asked in confusion. Professor Clarke nodded in confirmation.

"Their vision is like that of toads: they can only see movement in their field of vision, the rest is just a hazy blur. If you don't move, it can hear you, it can smell you, but it can't see or find you."

Harry nodded, committing these facts to memory. Somehow he suspected he might have to deal with one of these things in the near future. "And if you cannot avoid being found?"

"Only use fire," Professor Clarke immediately advised. "Mundane, magical, doesn't matter. Their nerve endings are dead, so they don't feel pain, so things like the Cruciatus or Diffindo don't work on them. And despite their seemingly lanky appearance, their skin is nearly as tough as Dragon Skin, so explosive hexes won't breach it either. They might push them back, but that would be the blast of concussive force more than anything else. It won't actually hurt them. Fire, on the other hand… Well, let's just say that while it might be tough, their skin would still burn just as easily as yours. Perhaps even easier, I never bothered to test that. It also scares them off, so even if you can't hit them, it'll send them leaping away if you're ever cornered."

Harry nodded. "Don't move, only use fire. Got it. Any other tips?"

"Yeah," Professor Clarke said. "If you see one turning, or recognise someone that's recently been turned… Kill it anyway. The things still remember a bit of their former lives, before they were turned. And the beasts, the Inferius in control knows how to turn that sentimentality against any friends and family. Even if it were faced with its own husband, wife, or children, it will not hesitate to kill them all."

Harry nodded grimly. As much as he would despise himself for doing so, as firmly as he was against killing… He'd rather slaughter them than letting them turn into this. "Does Voldemort use them?" He asked.

"Not in great numbers so far, but yeah," Professor Clarke confirmed unfortunately. "A few Death Eaters have occasionally been sighted unleashing them near homes of magical families unwilling to join him. The Aurors can take them down, as it's no hidden secret that they're vulnerable to fire, but… On average, one can kill three experienced Aurors before it's killed for good."

Harry looked down, mulling that over. If fully trained Aurors, the best of Law Enforcement Personnel the Ministry has to offer, cannot stand against an Inferius alone… What chance does he have?

Professor Clarke, though, suddenly smiled. "But enough about such gruesome matters. Let us return to what I'll be teaching you from now on, and which Charlus Potter will take over in the Yule Break." With that, he guided Harry's sight away from the shadows where the Inferius undoubtedly still lurked, and towards the Blackboard.

 **SUBJECTS TO TRAIN, PRACTICE, AND TEACH WHILE HERE:**

 **-MAGICAL FIGHTING/DUELLING (YES, THERE IS A DIFFERENCE!), AS WELL AS INCORPORATING POTIONS IN FIGHTING**

 **-IMPROVE OCCLUMENCY**

 **-BECOME AMBIDEXTROUS (EQUALLY SKILLED/COMFORTABLE USING BOTH HANDS/SIDES)**

 **-MASTER NONVERBAL**

 **-EASY WANDLESS MAGIC TRICKS (DISARMING, SUMMONING, BANISHING, LEVITATION, LUMOS, AMONG OTHERS)**

 **-KNOWLEDGE OF CREATURES DARK LORD WILL USE (WEREWOLF/LYCAN, VAMPIRE, ROGUE GOBLIN, BASILISK(?), DEMENTOR, TROLL, GIANT, HOUSE-ELF, ACROMANTULA, INFERIUS)**

 **-NON-MAGICAL SKILLS (LOCK-PICKING, POCKET-PICKING, MARTIAL ARTS, BASIC COMBAT TACTICS (FLANKING, SETTING UP AMBUSHES, DIGGING IN), ESCAPING FROM RESTRAINTS (ROPES, CHAINS, CUFFS), BASIC SURVIVAL IN THE WILD WITH LITTLE TO NO RESOURCES)**

Harry stared wide-eyed at the board. He was supposed to learn all that, with only a few hours every week of practising? Yes, it did all seem handy, but this was a bit too much. How was he supposed to master all that by the end of the year? Especially since the Christmas break was only a few weeks away, that only left him a little over half the year, and that was an unrealistically short time to master it all.

"How will I learn all this in only a year?" Harry asked him. "Not that I don't want to, but this is a lot, even without homework, quidditch, the DA, or maintaining a semblance of a social life. With all of these on top… I don't see how I can learn all that."

"That's very simple," Professor Clarke said, briefly pausing as the Inferius let out a brief shriek again, followed by a few yelps, before falling silent again. "You won't. Remember, this tutoring will last until the end of your Hogwarts years, even after I'm gone, so you have three years to learn this. Not to mention, the Creature knowledge can simply be done by reading ahead in your Care of Magical Creatures books or my Defence Against the Dark Arts books and memorising the contents, and can be finished in under a week if you put your mind to it." Professor Clarke put a check beside that one with chalk before continuing to another point. "Becoming ambidextrous can be done in classes by simply starting to practice casting with your off hand without pause, as you already occasionally do in my own class only not switching to your right when it gets difficult. I know you already practice Occlumency in your bed before you go to sleep, Fleamont told me you did anyway, thus so long as you keep up the practice that part's covered too. As for the non-magical tricks, I'm sure a few muggleborn Ravenclaws can help you out with most of those, or even the Marauders. Merlin knows how often the critters get into my office without permission."

With the things he was already practising, or could easily learn outside of these hours, Harry had to admit the workload had lessened considerably. And with the added sixth and seventh year to learn as well, the task suddenly seemed a lot more doable. Alright, Harry could work with this.

"Well, in that case, Sir… When do we start?"

Professor Clarke smiled. "First off, grab your wand… And put it in your left hand, for God's sake. And they say us old people have bad memory…"

* * *

 _ **Deputy Headmistress' Office, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands**_

Sadly, she shuffled into Professor McGonagall's office. Today was the day. Today, this Friday afternoon after her last class ten minutes ago, she would sign herself over to become a member of the Potter family. She would become a ward of their household. And she would thus cut the last ties with her family.

Not that she wanted to, of course. She loved her parents-

She stopped, taking a deep breath and suppressing a sob as she sat down. She didn't want another breakdown now. She'd already cried her ears off with Harry in the Room of Requirement, and later again with her friends. Marlene, Mary, and Audrey, her dorm mates (or besties, as Mary preferred), the ones she tried to get along with, and successfully did so too, mostly because she didn't want to have to share a dorm with people she didn't like. Not that she didn't enjoy their company, but they just didn't really match. She was enormously studious, while Marlene was mostly focused on working out, quidditch, and her physique. Mary was quite the socialite and the gossip everyone not just in her year, but in her whole house went to, not unlike how Alice described how most rich Pureblood women ended up becoming socialite trophy wives in expansive manors. And Audrey… was Audrey. A tomboy that more often than not hung out with Vincent, Moliere, and Joshua. There was no animosity between them, but neither went out of their way to become each other's good friend either.

After them, of course, followed her actual friends. Alice, her pseudo-older sister in Gryffindor who had been her first pureblood witch friend and, along with Sev', her guide in understanding most of the Wizarding World, or the Wizarding part of the United Kingdom at least. The one who'd saved her from some seventh year Slytherin git, and befriended and mentored her since. Sev, her first real friend who happened to be a boy, and the one who introduced her to magic, something Lily would forever be grateful for to him. He'd lost just as much as she had when Cokeworth had been burned down, and she was glad he was joining her new family too. Pandora and Roxanne, her muggleborn friends from other houses. Girls she'd bonded with in first year on the train, after Sev had run off in anger over Potter's condescending behaviour and the two had joined her because they couldn't find compartments of their own. A friendship-pact that proved the House lines weren't necessarily the ending of friendships.

And lastly, Hermione, Ginny, and Luna. The odd ones she liked to hang around with occasionally, but had trouble befriending. Not that they were annoying or bothersome like the older Potter and Black. Far from it: Hermione was just as studious as she and Remus were; often more so, even, and was a great help whenever she was stuck with homework. Almost as if she'd done the year before. Ginny was a little bit like Marlene, mostly focused on staying fit and sharp, but not obsessively so, and much easier to hang out with. Their mutual dislike for Black's stupid immature stunts didn't hurt either, and her sharp wit and peculiar spell use (she had to learn how to do that Bat-Bogey hex) were very refreshing. And Luna might as well have been a Lovegood, she fit right in with Pandora's seventh-year boyfriend Xeno. Unflappable, chirpy, always going on about dubious creatures (though since she brought Morphie with her to Charms Lily believed there was a very real chance those creatures actually existed).

But there was always a measure of distance between her and them. An invisible barrier, closely tied to their past. Try as she might, none of the three had truly opened up about their pasts. True, there were the snips here and there like their adventures with Harry or their parents' professions. But names and dates were rarely mentioned, and whenever she tried to inquire where they'd lived before moving to Potter Manor, or where their Parents used to live, they tried to change the subject. And they never talked about extended family, beyond the occasionally mentioned fact Ginny had numerous brothers, but no sisters.

Just like Lily didn't anymore. God, Tuney had been a right wench at times, but she was still her sister, and Lily loved her simply for that.

And that chapter of her life was about to end in an hour.

One hour from now, she would become a Ward of the Potter family, and thanks to Alice she knew at least vaguely what that meant. It was more complicated than in the Muggle world, where it simply meant someone looked after and was responsible for the child in question, basically becoming their guardian. And while that part remained the same in the Wizarding world, there were a lot more expectations on her part. Traditionalist as Wizards and Witches were, since she had effectively no family left, once she became their ward she was expected to become a full-fledged member of the Potter family. Taking the name, undergoing some sort of Blood adoption, magically vowing to do her utmost best see them as her new family, and doing her best to not harm its good reputation… The Ministry of Magic was very strict in that regard. To become a ward basically meant cutting ties with her old family, something she knew would be incredibly difficult when the moment would come in an hour or so. Sure, Professor McGonagall had assured her the Potters had saved what belongings of her old house that they could (not that there was much left after that blazing inferno, charred pictures, her father's old pistol, and a half-burned stuffed toy from Tuney at most) and put them in her new room at the Potter Manor, and bought the deeds of her parents' lodge in the Alps, to be given back to her when she came of age in the Muggle world. But she couldn't even remain Lily Jaina Evans. No, when she accepted, she would become Lily Jaina Potter.

It was the same way Alice would go from Alice Talitha Prince to Alice Talitha Longbottom in the Easter break. Her own parents and her directly extended family like uncles, aunts, grandparents and cousins, had been killed last year in one of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's first public attacks against those opposing him, nearly eradicating the Prince family and those related to them except for a few exceptions like Alice, Sev and his mother, and a handful of out-of-country third or fourth cousins. Alice had survived by pure chance, happening to be sleeping at Frank's at the time of the attack. The entire process could've gone sooner, like it had taken barely a week with Lily's own ward contract, were it not from the fact the Prince family had been quite wealthy before their deaths, if not as well-known as others like the Potters, the Malfoys, and the Greengrasses, and Alice, as Heiress apparent, was set to inherit the whole of it according to her grandparents' will if her parents were dead as well. So naturally, said cousins, and even more distantly related family members all tried to dispute Alice' claim to the family fortunes, slowing down the process by nearly ten months.

It had been solved the only way it could've gone that Alice could've remained Heiress and still become a Ward: an early Betrothal Contract with an Heiress-continuation stipulation on top of the Wardship. Lily had been shocked when she'd first heard the Wizarding World still dealt with those, but had been assured the Contract was with the consent of both of them, something Lily should've realised beforehand. Frank and Alice had been in love with one another for years already, since their third years, in fact, and marriage was only the next step with how busy they'd reportedly been in the prefect bathroom since fifth year. And when Alice had compared it to prenuptial agreements if both parties consented, in addition to the stipulation of a two-year engagement added to the contract, Lily had to agree it made more sense to do it so securely. Combined with how Frank's father was both very intimidating physically, very well-connected with both the Ministry's department of Family Affairs and Gringotts in general, and Alice had been living at the Longbottoms part-time anyway, Alice's position as Heiress was secure and goblin-ironclad, even in an early marriage. Fortunately, Lily (as a middle-class Muggleborn) wouldn't have as much of a fuss when she signed the Ward Contract.

And it was "when" she signed, not "if." The odds were far better with the Potters than with most other families. They were wealthy, well-connected, caring, generous to the point of near-spoiling if James were any indication, only near because she doubted Harry would've turned out so well if he'd been spoiled rotten, and she knew they'd look after her at least. Sure, she shared the household with… She paused to count it out in her head… seven other children her age all the time, and up to eleven if Neville, Remus, Peter, and Sev' visited as often as she suspected they would. Plus, she'd have to share her new living quarters with both James Potter and Sirius Black, something she knew would be trying for anyone with how often those two behaved like six-year-olds.

But the chance to live with Harry…

Even in as dark a moment in her life as this was, Harry still brought a smile to her face. As much as she hated to admit it, Potters had incredibly good looks. Those jaws, the cute little stature, the hair… Were he not such a prick and a bully, she might've considered dating James. But Harry… He lacked all his brother's faults. He was kind, caring, attentive in how he immediately went after her after she got the terrible news, had a nice, shy smile that held none of the arrogance that his brother's held, and such captivating eyes. No wonder Amelia Bones was falling for him. Anyone would, even her-

 _Curse you, Mary. I owe you ten galleons._

Yes, she sighed finally as she acknowledged the fact. She had a crush on Harry. But half the school did. So what if she shared a bit in that communal dream of having him?

She sighed again. She knew she was doing everything she could not to think of what was to come. Signing that agreement to become a Ward of the Potters was hard, yes, especially for the reasons she'd just given, but not just that.

Signing that contract and agreement meant acknowledging her parents and her sister were… Were… That they were gone. And she couldn't just accept that. She couldn't…

Someone lightly tapped her on her knuckles with their wand, and she looked up to professor McGonagall staring at her in concern, she smiled sheepishly. "I haven't been paying attention, have I?"

The professor gave her a sad smile. "No, my dear. But that's perfectly understandable, given what you've gone through. I was simply asking if you're alright, and if you had any questions about what's going to happen."

Lily smiled, thankful for the distraction. "I'm as alright as can be, considering. Vented all my anger over the Death Eaters, cried out my excessive tears, gotten through most of my depressive spells," she bit that last bit out when McGonagall raised a sceptical eyebrow, "and I know what to expect when I go to the Potters. Pure chaos and utter mayhem," she said that last bit to lighten the tense atmosphere she realised was slowly forming because of her.

For her part, Professor McGonagall fortunately chuckled. "I can't deny that, my dear. I knew Charlus and Fleamont Potter back when Charlus and I were sorted in Gryffindor together, and Fleamont joined us a year later, and if you think James is a prankster, he has nothing on his father or uncle. My, one time when they were young, Charlus confounded his owl, Mousehound the first, locked his brother in their Owlery, sprayed in owl hormonal pheromones, during their owl's traditional mating season, and looked on as Fleamont was besieged by the massive owl trying to mate with him. He even took and shared pictures." The Professor turned a particular photo on her desk, showing who had to be Fleamont Potter, with glasses askew, running around a room similar yet different from the Hogwarts Owlery, running from one of the largest owls she'd ever seen.

Lily laughed, the first time she's genuinely done so since hearing the news.

Professor McGonagall smirked. "Fleamont has always been wary of owls since. Of course, he in turn retaliated by vanishing all of his brother's clothes in the middle of a date with his future wife in the Three Broomsticks, and doused one of his… Persistent Admirers with a strong Love Potion to go after him. Compared to that, the occasional colour changing charm, dangling hexes on students' ankles, and exploding potions in the labs and bathrooms that the Marauders cause are quite tame, really."

Lily didn't laugh as hard as the first time, but her smile remained despite… No, best not to focus on that, Lily figured, forcing down the pang of sadness by sheer stubborn will, and turned to her head of house. "At least I now know who James looked up to when he thought of his antics."

McGonagall nodded. "I know you don't like James very much, but I can think of few people better suited to take you in. They may enjoy pranks a bit too much for your taste, but overall Charlus is a very responsible man, and I've rarely met a stronger, more charitable and kind person than him. And Fleamont is not that different from his brother, despite his claims. Not to mention Dorea Potter is a very good friend from my own time at Hogwarts, and despite not having had the chance yet to get to know her personally due to how she mostly resides in New York, I have similar faith in Euphemia Potter, Fleamont's husband. You and young mister Snape will be in good hands."

Lily nodded. She trusted the professor. Then she tilted her head. "Speaking of, where is Severus?"

"Considering Professor Slughorn is his head of house," the Professor immediately answered, "and _de facto_ magical guardian upon the death of the young man's own family members, Severus is waiting in his office for Fleamont and the ministry official with the Ward Contract. It's the same reason I'm handling your situation, Miss Evans, considering the situation is the same with you and me."

Lily nodded. That made sense, she supposed. "Alright. Though I don't understand why people from the Ministry have to be there. I thought simply handing the proper department in the Ministry the signed contract was enough."

Professor McGonagall sighed, sounding as annoyed as Lily felt confused by the matter. "I happen to agree with you, Miss Evans, and in normal cases it would be. But Charlus Potter, while generally benevolent, is a very powerful man and dangerous to cross, with quite a low opinion of the Ministry. Minister Bagnold hopes that, by giving him special attention by sending people from the Department of Family Affairs and the Department of Magical Records, they can partially better their image. At the same time, they hope to learn more about why Charlus has chosen to take you in, and gain a bit of insight in how he thinks or what he values."

Lily frowned. "Alright, I understand that. But with how private the Potters are rumoured to be, wouldn't they do that image improving better by simply letting him be, to let this matter be settled simply between you and Lord Potter?"

The professor let another sigh escape her lips. "They would. But the upper echelons of the Ministry have rarely been accused of being either competent or intelligent. Besides, the Ministry loves nothing more than to meddle in things it has no right to meddle in. They think that simply because it exists in the United Kingdom, they have a right to know of and control it. Honestly, with how much it tries to run everything you'd almost forget the Ministry exists simply to ensure the Statute of Secrecy is not breached, rather than to govern and rule over all of us magical folk, like the Wizengamot's the British Parliament and the Minister is the Queen of England. Megalomaniacs, the lot of them."

Lily nodded, as she listened to her professor's tirade. There was obviously a lot of pent-up frustration on her professor's part towards the Ministry. It wilted Lily's resolve a little. She knew from Alice the Ministry wasn't as picture perfect as it made itself out to be, but hearing it laid out like that truly drove home how bad it really was. She knew people were quite judgemental about who one's ancestors were and where one came from, and aside from the Ministry and becoming an employee in a shop there were very little job prospects for her in the magical world. There was always becoming a Cursebreaker for Gringotts, since the Goblins handled the employment of their Cursebreakers themselves, but the Goblins upheld very high standards. Standards Lily wasn't sure she could meet, even with her grades. She would have to achieve like eight or nine perfect NEWTs due to how wide and varied the curses could be and the various things that had to be taken into account in breaking them.

"The Ministry isn't all bad," her professor continued, and she realised the older woman must have misinterpreted her growing frown. "There are a lot of good people working in the Ministry. I can name two dozen off the top of my head that would could be trusted with our lives. It is merely-"

"The people in charge that are despicable," Lily finished. "The ones that make all the calls of what happens, nominally or otherwise."

McGonagall nodded in agreement. "Yes. People like Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy, or Ignatius Selwyn. People that-"

The door opened, and Lily turned her head around to see who entered. The Potters she recognised immediately. Lord Charlus' choice of attire, despite how comfortable he seemed in them, didn't give the immediate impression he was a wizard: he wore sturdy camouflage cargo pants, a plain white shirt with a thick buttoned up dark vest over it, though the man had at least two weapons clearly visible on him judging by the bulges underneath his armpits, a long dark brown coat with a high but folded collar, fingerless gloves, and boots. Physically he gave off the impression of being a very formidable man. He was also clearly the father of Harry and James: he had the same black messy hair, though his was liberally streaked with grey, glasses, and shared James' hazel eyes.

Lady Dorea Potter looked just as good as her husband, having welcoming grey eyes and her brown hair, that was just as streaked with grey as her husband, tied off in a bun on the back of her head, had kind and beautiful features Lily couldn't help but admire. She wore a long brown cloak with elegant green and silver robes underneath Lily wouldn't exactly call comfortable with how form-fitting and tight they seemed, but she looked quite stately in them, and despite not outwardly sharing her husband's physical strength, gave off her own aura of formidability that would make anyone pause. The robes also hugged her figure quite closely in the right places, showing off the… assets she possessed that would make men pause. Assets Lily couldn't help but be a bit jealous of. Still, both of them had welcoming smiles Lily immediately couldn't help but shyly return.

Following them were two Ministry employees, and their appearance wasn't as impressive as those of the Potters: simple dark blue Ministry robes with the ministry logo sewn on the shoulders. Name tags on the left side of their chest revealed their names to be Clayton Flack, a man from the Department of Family Affairs and Drucilla Osbert, a woman from the Department of Magical Records. Professor McGonagall stood up and rearranged and transfigured a group of chairs and desks so they stood in the centre of a clearing with a large round conference table instead. Lily and the Professor got up and sat down next to each other. Lady Potter sat down a third of the way around, with her husband sitting next to her, while the two ministry officials sat down the other third, Lord and Lady Potter and Professor McGonagall sitting between Lily and the ministry personnel.

"Hello, Lily," Lady Potter greeted her kindly. "Is it alright if I call you that?" Lily looked at her, a bit nervous. It was suddenly all becoming a bit too real for her liking, now at she was here. Soon, in the next few minutes in fact, she would be forced to sign the papers, and her life would be in the hands of the people behind her, and-

Realising suddenly Lady Potter was still waiting for an answer, she nodded.

"Wonderful," Lady Potter said joyfully, but not so enthusiastically that it was inappropriate, considering they were becoming here guardians so shortly after her parents' own death. "I'm Dorea Ursula Potter, Lady of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Potter, and one of the eight founding families of the Great International Coalition to Better the Wizarding World, otherwise known as the Great Alliance. But you can call me Dorea, Lily. Or Lady Potter, if you insist on manners."

Lily looked at her in a slightly confused manner. That was one mouthful of words Lily wasn't going to repeat any time soon. And she truly understood only half of what was said. She knew the Ancient and Noble thing determined how far back the family could trace their ancestry, and that the Great Alliance was a group of families working together the Potters were a part of, but what that all exactly meant… She hadn't the foggiest idea.

Seeing her state of confusion, Lord Potter rolled his eyes. "Dorea, dear, now look what you've done. With all those words you confused the poor dear." He nodded at his wife while looking at Lily. "I'm so sorry, Lily. But my wife was born a Black, and Blacks have a tendency to insist on dramatics and propriety whenever they can."

"Well, someone has to," Lady Potter huffed, "After all, with the lack of manners you and your brother showed while we attended Hogwarts I almost didn't believe you actually knew what the word meant." Lily couldn't help but smile at the banter. Despite her wariness and nervousness she was beginning to like them already.

"Of course I know what it means, my dearest," Lord Potter countered smoothly. "I only bring it out for people I think are worth the effort to do so."

"Oh, really?" Lady Potter asked in an amused tone. "So when you suddenly vanished your clothes for me, mere instants after an innuendo about how you looked better without them, that was what you thought was propriety?"

Lord Potter sighed. "I'm never living that down, am I?"

"I can assure you, you will not," Professor McGonagall said with a glint in her eyes, ignoring Lady Potter and Lily's mirthful eyes, the attempts by Flack to stifle his chuckles, and the rather bored look the Osbert woman wore. "After all, I still have the pictures She-Who-We-Won't-Discuss took when you ran out of the Three Broomsticks, Rosmerta right on your heels."

Lily noted something curious pass through as Professor McGonagall said She-Who-We-Won't-Discuss: her and Dorea's eyes briefly filled with pain, and Charlus' eyes hardened instantly. Osbert, for some reason, actually looked pleased for some reason.

But the look in Lord Potter's eyes was gone instantly, and with a slightly exaggerated cheer, he leaned forward. "Well, we best not have that, eh? I mean, after all, if those photos got another to be circulated, imagine what would happen for you? I still have plenty of evidence from the… _Ventures_ you and Poppy undertook, after all."

"As much as we enjoy the byplay here," Osbert cut in sternly as Professor McGonagall took on a scandalised expression, "Can we please proceed with why we were scheduled to be here? Not all of us have all day to dally, after all."

"Quite," Charlus agreed, turning so he could see them all. "It would be rude to waste the Ministry's time, after all, considering they never waste ours. Oh, wait."

While Osbert looked exaggeratedly incensed, Flack spoke up before she could get a word in. "Right. Let us not waste any of yours any more than we need to." He reached into his pockets and withdrew a folder. Lily's eyes widened in surprise when she saw her name written on it. The man withdrew several papers from it, and Lily paled a bit when she saw it was her file on underage magic violations. She already had two strikes on it, both to settle disputes with Petunia, and she didn't know how the Potters would react. They might be lenient, considering they had brought up one of the worst pranksters Hogwarts had ever seen. Or they might crack down hard, because she was new to the family and they needed to set her firm ground rules, rules James would follow at home but be free to break at Hogwarts. She just didn't know. And it scared her.

Osbert took it out of Flack's hand, to the man's surprise, and read aloud. "Lily Jaina Evans. Born thirtieth of January, nineteen sixty. Daughter to Jason Evans and Jaina Lexine Turner, sister to Petunia Nicole Evans. All since deceased." Lily winced, something she noted no one but Osbert seemed to miss. "First offence in Magic use in front of a muggle on the twelfth of August, nineteen seventy-three: the Aquamenti charm, taught in sixth year at Hogwarts, on her sister Petunia Evans, resulting in a near-drowning experience. Received a warning."

"It was an accident!" Lily cried out, panicking when the Potters looked at her in surprise and McGonagall in mild disapproval. Either something had gone wrong at the ministry, or this woman wasn't reading everything out loud, but what the woman was reading wasn't everything. She had to correct this, and quick. "She was trying to burn my books! She got angry with me, tried to toss them into a campfire, I panicked and tried to put it out, but accidentally overpowered the charm and hit my sister. I didn't mean to harm her, and even helped her breathe again."

"Then how do you know your charms so well, Miss?" Osbert frowned at her quite sternly. Fortunately, McGonagall came to her rescue.

"I can vouch for that. Miss Evans is a Charms Prodigy, and in order to keep things challenging for her the staff decided to assign her advanced class material from higher years."

"But to read a sixth-year book in the summer before her third year?" Osbert asked sceptically. Lily decided she definitely didn't like the woman at all, given the way she behaved and seemed to think about Lily. "Or, her second offence: Magic Use in front of multiple Muggles, on the nineteenth of August, nineteen seventy-five. Vanishing all of your sister's clothes during a wedding party both of you attended in Bristol. A dozen Obliviators had to be called in, and you were fined a hundred galleons for that offence, you mudblood wen-"

"Hand me that," Lord Potter interrupted sternly, holding out his hand for it. Osbert started to smirk, and turned it around and handed it over. Lily looked down, trying to fight back tears as the events became to much as they heaped on top of another: the loss of her family, her home, and now her potential guardians being scared off by her magic misuse records. This was it. He wouldn't accept her now, with how-

A sudden whoosh broke through her thoughts, and Lily looked up to see him turn her records of magic misuse flame up and be turned to ash before her eyes. Surprised, she turned between Lord Potter, who fixed Osbert with a glare, and a nearly apoplectic Osbert and a flummoxed Flack.

"What did you do?!" she demanded rising up from her seat. "Those were-"

"Come come, Miss Osbert," Lady Potter chided mockingly. "Surely you weren't stupid enough to bring the only existing set of ministry records of Miss Evans' offences? That would be beyond careless of you, Miss Osbert."

The Osbert woman visibly bristled with fury, stood up, and reached for her wand. "I swear, you whore, when I'm through with you-"

She didn't go any further before the wand she'd been reaching for flew out of her cloak and into Lady Potter's waiting hand, the same mocking smile still on her face. To Lily's surprise and confusion, Dorea put the wand back down right in the middle between the two women, and Osbert snatched it right back.

"Really, Drucilla?" Lady Potter asked in a condescending tone, and for a moment Lily was back in first year, when that scary seventh year Slytherin Bellatrix had tried to corner her in the corridors. "You have to think about your next move very carefully. Are you really going to be so stupid as to try and curse not only a Black, but the wife of a Baron, who frequently spars with her husband in her spare time, by the way? The wife of one of the founders of the Great Alliance, who has many friends who would all be willing and able to make you disappear from the world forever at a mere few whispered words, in such a way it would never be traced back to our family?" Osbert lost her angry look during this entire recounting, and had paled and started shaking slightly. Lady Potter lost her condescending smile, turning it into a frosty glare as she summoned her own wand in hand faster than Lily could blink, pointing it at the opposing woman's neck. "By all means, give it your best. I can guarantee you, you wouldn't survive the experience."

Osbert seemed to have more brains than Lily took her for, for she immediately returned her wand to where she'd previously put it and sat back down. "Clever girl," Lady Potter mocked as she put away her own wand, satisfied at having the woman put in her place, and although she hadn't said or moved much since her attempt to defend herself, she couldn't help but silently cheer Dorea Potter on. As nervous as Lily was, she wasn't that upset with the woman getting put back in her place.

"You just wait," Osbert growled. "That Mudblood will graduate soon enough, and when that happens-"

"Then what, Death Eater filth?" Lord Potter questioned this time around, his glare having never left his expression. "Will you try to hex her? To kill her like you kill so many others you believe beneath you? Like the blood supremacist you are?"

Osbert smirked, ignoring Lily's gasp at the accusation, and lifted her sleeves to show she wore no Mark. "I'm not a Death Eater, as you can see. And yes, I may believe myself better than the Mudbloods. But as long as I don't do anything about my beliefs like the Death Eaters do, is that really a crime? My outlook on life and my stance on blood are a personal matter. In fact, last time I read the Wizarding Rights Charter, a Charter you recently asked to be amended to more strongly support this, in fact, it's against the very constitution to prosecute me for my beliefs. So, I ask you: what have I done wrong?"

 _Aside from being a total bitch?_ Lily wondered privately, but wisely kept her mouth shut. Instead of retorting to this, though, Lord Potter spoke on.

"We thank you for pointing this out, Madam Osbert," He said. "But our decision is unchanged: we wish to take her in as a ward, despite knowing of her tendency to use magic in spite of being underage. She is intelligent, kind, knowledgeable, mischievous, caring… There's little more we could ask for. Now, aside from simply acknowledging on behalf of the ministry that we are accepting a Ward contract for her, there's little other reason for your presence here. In fact, considering that your colleague can handle this acknowledgement by himself and that this is a matter of Family Affairs, something Mister Flack is well within the capacity to handle on his own, there's no reason for your presence here. So please, do us a favour, and _Sod Off_."

Lily smiled as Osbert started to fume more and more as Lord Potter talked, and looked as apoplectic as earlier when he finally and rudely dismissed her. Still, even she could see Lord Potter was edging for a fight, and Lady Potter's hand was hidden in her cloak's sleeve, and it was very clear Osbert wasn't going to get any support from either the professor or her colleague. With a final huff, she stood up, turned around and walked out the room. As soon as the door closed, Flack let out a sigh of relief.

"Thank Merlin she's gone," he sighed. "A ghastly woman, but she's vindictive, and friends with both her department head Dolores Umbridge and Wizengamot member Abraxas Malfoy, so no one's willing to do anything about her."

"More that her house is a Vassal to House Malfoy, but we see your point," Lady Potter agreed. "I never liked her back in class either. Still, now that that bitch is gone we can go ahead with the proceedings, yes?"

"Quite," Mister Flack agreed cheerfully, and pulled out another set of papers. Lily let out a sigh of relief when she saw it was just the Ward Contract.

"Now, I know you've done this a few times before in my office this summer, when you took in the Beckett Siblings and Miss Bay and Swann. But for the sake of protocols that I need to follow, I'll ask a few questions anyway. You all know what you are getting into?"

Both Lord and Lady Potter nodded, and Lily gave a shy one as well. The moment of the signing… She shook her head and started to listen in again. "-her in means that we become responsible for her in the ministry's eyes until the age of seventeen, and in the muggle world's eyes until the age of eighteen. We look after her family's assets until her muggle age of majority, in this case meaning a lodge in the Alps and a combined rough amount of £1,900,000 (worth roughly ʛ380,000) from bank accounts from both parents, her sister, and inheritance from her grandparents she and her sister were supposed to receive for their eighteenth birthdays."

Lily nodded. Professor McGonagall had already informed her of this, though the exact amount she was supposed to receive was a surprise. She'd guessed with their passing that her grandparents had left her with some money, but she'd expected a bit less. Still, nothing new so far. Then, it was her turn.

"And I agree upon signing the contract and accepting that I take the name, undergo a Blood Adoption, magically vow to do my utmost best see the Potters as my new family, and do my best to not harm the family reputation…" She trailed off, seeing Lord Potter bury his face in his hands, Lady Potter blushing a bit with embarrassment, Professor McGonagall roll her eyes, and Mister Flack doing his best, and failing, to suppress his chuckles.

"Miss Evans," Flack explained when he finally calmed down. "Most traditional Pureblood families do insist on that sort of thing in case they take in an orphan with no family left to speak of. The Potters, on the other hand, are most definitely not traditional when it comes to children, wards, and heirs, a small fact whoever taught you of these Ward Contracts obviously wasn't aware of. Baron Potter, if you will explain what you expect from Miss Evans, I would appreciate it."

Lor- no, evidently Baron Potter, recovered enough from his embarrassment at the antiquated expectations and that Lily thought they would demand that, withdrew his hands and folded them in front of him. "Basically it's the same as with Muggle Wards with us: we're responsible for you, you listen if we ask, explain, or tell you something, any large purchases are discussed with us, you try to get good grades, and you act responsibly. Beyond that, you can do as you wish. Of course, we'd like for you to see us as your new family eventually, and we'd appreciate it if you do not sully our reputation any more than my brother does on a daily basis anyway. But we won't enforce either with the contract. As for taking our name and all that blood adoption stuff you seemed so hesitant about… If you want to do any of that later we'll gladly do it. But we won't force you to do it now."

Lily's eyes widened. They'd do that? Letting her keep her name and relative independence? They'd… This was even better than she'd hoped for. "Oh."

"That's an underwhelmed reaction," Baron Potter muttered, before speaking up. "So, knowing that things are a bit different than expected, do you still want to sign the contract?"

Lily nodded without hesitation. Even with the restrictions from before she'd still wanted to become a ward of the Potters. But with this newfound freedom that allowed her to maintain what little independence she had, to keep her name? There was little to persuade that she shouldn't, and even then Lily knew she was too stubborn for her own good. No way she wouldn't sign.

"Very well." Mister Flack agreed, before sliding the papers across his part of the table towards them. The Potters each took a brief glance through it, before nodding in agreement with the stated terms and signing it with a black quill. The contract was then shoved towards her. She looked it over, reading carefully. It was unexpectedly short and simple, and she found there wasn't anything in it they hadn't already discussed: while written in much grander words, it simply said she'd become a ward of the Potters, that they would become her guardians, and that they would look after her assets until she became of age in the muggle world, when she would be free to decide whether to go her own way or to become a permanent member of the family if she wished to do so, in the way she'd feared she had to do at the start, with Blood Adoption and such. At the bottom, there were already three signatures: the ones of Mister Flack as a Ministry Witness, Baron Potter, and Lady Potter. There was one spot for her signature, as the one becoming a Ward, and one for Professor McGonagall, as she needed to sign off for being Lily's magical guardian. The black quill was also handed to her, which she noted had a Gringotts symbol on it, for some reason.

She grabbed it and held it over the parchment. And hesitated. If she signed it, regardless if she could stay an Evans or not, it meant accepting her parents were truly gone.

Was she ready for that? Intellectually, she knew they were not coming back. Sev had already explained there was no way to survive Fiendfyre if they'd been caught in the centre of it. But in her heart? She may have grieved, and been depressed over it quite often the last few days. But to accept it?

Was she ready?

Her hand quivered a bit from her nerves, and she looked up at the Potters, who were watching her expectantly. Baron Potter, who had stood up for her and defended her when that Osbert woman had verbally attacked and tried to incriminate her, even to the point of burning and erasing her Magic Misuse record. Sure, given enough time the Ministry might recreate it from the logged notifications and copies of sent letters, but the man, who was for all accounts a stranger, had stood up to the Ministry to defend her. Or Lady Potter, who had verbally beaten down the woman and reminded her of her place in relation to the Potters. The one who had immediately tried to be kind to her upon arrival.

Yes, she could accept it. A part of her would forever grieve their deaths, but her parents would most certainly approve of them taking her in. And if she had to suffer a pair of Marauders for every holiday from now until she left Hogwarts, so be it. She could live with that.

She smiled, though the tears of grief still fell from her eyes, still sad a having to be confronted with it so strongly. But she signed.

 _Lily Jaina Evans._

The back of her hand stung briefly, and she noted the ink looked remarkably similar to blood. But the sensation passed, and when she saw Professor McGonagall lean forward for it, she passed both the contract and the quill along. A quick scratch by McGonagall later, and it was signed.

"Excellent," Mister Flack said cheerfully, as he rolled the parchment up and gathered it in a pocket of his robes. "A quick stop by Gringotts to return the quill, and I'll have it logged with the Ministry by supper," he smiled, and held out his hand to Lily. "And allow me to be the first to congratulate you on your acceptance into the Potter family, Lily."

"Thank you, Mister Flack," she said, shaking his hand. "And my condolences for your colleague. She seems a terror to work with."

Flack laughed, "If you think she's bothersome, you should meet her boss. Now that woman's a real toady. And all the pink…" The man shuddered. "If you ever consider working for the Ministry, I recommend trying to apply for any department other than Records until Umbridge has been promoted, transferred elsewhere, or dismissed. It'd be much better for your mental health."

Lily nodded, filing that away for later. Mister Flack turned to Baron Potter. "Charlus, always a pleasure."

"Clayton," Baron Potter nodded in agreement. Flack nodded, did a courtesy to Lady Potter, and departed through the door. As soon as he did, though, Baron Potter scowled.

"Meddlesome numbskulls," he muttered, drawing a slight frown from Lily, and knowing smiles from Lady Potter and Professor McGonagall.

"He means well," her Head of House chided. "He's simply doing as he's told."

"If people started thinking for themselves instead of simply doing as others tell them to, the world would be a much better place," Charlus retorted, before his expression softened. "But enough cynicism from me today." He stood up. "Lily, would you like to spend the weekend with us at Potter Manor, so the three of us have a chance to get to know one another better? I've already discussed it with both Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore, and both have given their permission."

Lily nodded. She'd like the chance to have that, and her largest concerns about it, permission from the Headmaster and maybe have to speak with James too often over those days, seemed to be addressed. "I'd love to,"

Baron and Lady Potter smiled. "Good. I hoped so, hence why I scheduled the signing to be on a Friday afternoon, so we could have the evening and two whole days ahead of ourselves. Granted, most of Saturday will be spent shopping in Diagon Alley and Muggle Glasgow, but…"

"Why?" Lily asked, frowning even more. Why did they need to go to Glasgow?

"You own very little more than what you have here at Hogwarts, remember?" Lady Potter reminded her gently. "Nearly everything else was destroyed when-"

"Right," Lily finished for her, her frown being replaced by a look of sadness. With all the emotional torment of the loss of her family and the imminent anticipation of living with the Potter family, she'd almost forgotten she had little more than the clothes on her back. Due to the fact the weather was almost always clouded and chilly this time of year, with only thirty days of cold snow and bright hot summer days combined (a phenomenon that had been happening for the last three years) she left most of her clothes for both extremes at home, trusting Mary's transfiguration skills whenever the days got too warm or too cold. Something that was now coming back to bite her. She still had her own keepsakes here at Hogwarts (an Elvis Presley bobble head, a family photo album her mother had given her two Christmases ago, and a muggle painting of a dragon from Tolkien's books), but most of her stuff had still been at home.

"Not to worry," Lady Potter assured her. "The basics for your room have already been installed: large bed with drapes, vanity and ottoman, wardrobe, nightstands, standard lighting. It's merely that the room needs a… personal touch. Things that really make it yours, like colours or designs for bedsheets and drapes, the walls, or the odd trinket here and there that you really like."

Lily nodded, a bit relieved at that. McGonagall looked at her and gave a reassuring smile.

"Not to worry, dear. I've known Dorea since I myself was a first year Hogwarts student. You'll find fewer places where you'll feel more welcome."

"It's also so you can test things out," Baron Potter added. When Lily gave him a bemused look he elaborated. "We don't know much of your tastes, habits, and wants. How firm do you want your mattress to be? What kind of breakfast do you want in the morning? How would you like to see your room arranged? Did you have any hobbies or sports over the summers with your parents you'd like to pick up again? Aside from the dozens of things you do at Hogwarts James has written home about plenty of times, we don't know anything about you, and given we're your guardians now we'd like to change that."

Lily nodded, hiding her blush at the fact James Potter actually went as far as telling his parents everything about her that he discovered about her.

"Sure," she said finally. "Just one question: why Glasgow?"

Baron Potter actually blushed and looked away, while Lady Potter gave a fond smirk. "We were both raised as Purebloods; highly isolated from any muggle town or village unless it had many magical elements, otherwise under a strict curfew lest we risk exposing magic to Muggles. So naturally, the first thing Charlus and I did when we got our Apparation Licenses was celebrate by going on a drinking binge in Glasgow," she winked knowingly at Lily. "He's been in love with the place since."

She tilted her head at that answer. It made sense, she supposed. While London was the capital of the U.K. and had a wider selection of choices, Glasgow wasn't without its own stores for clothing and other necessities. And she wasn't picky where they did their shopping, as long as it happened.

"Right," Lady Potter stated. "Shall we get moving, then? The weekend's not getting any longer."

McGongall nodded, and opened the door to her office. "Feel free to use my Floo. I can imagine you don't want to run into anymore Ministry employees, and I don't think Osbert would let that insult go very easily."

Baron Potter nodded. "No need for any more confrontations, as much as I might enjoy it. Thanks, Minerva."

Lady Potter also got up and stepped forward, and the two women exchanged a hug. "We should try to meet up more often. It's been too long since the three of us got together."

"Agreed," Professor McGonagall said. "Until the next time."

With that, the Potters headed for the door, and Lily scrambled to do so too. "See you on Monday, Professor!" She called out after her, before catching up with the Potters just as they opened the door. Politely, Baron Potter held open the door for them and gestured for Lily to get in first. They immediately stepped to the Floo.

"We're Floo'ing at the same time, Lily," Dorea explained as she grabbed Lily by the shoulder. "We decided after… an incident last summer that the defences of our home are too vulnerable, and one of our measures is that unless someone on the other side opens up the grate, no one but myself, Charlus, Fleamont, Euphemia, and Arcturus can have unrestricted access to the Manor through the Floo."

"Arcturus?" Lily asked. The name sounded familiar, she knew Sirius had said the name before, but she couldn't recall-

"My dear brother," Lady Potter answered immediately. "Baron Arcturus Cygnus Black the Third, Paterfamilias of the Most Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. A good friend of Charlus."

Lily nodded in understanding, resisting rolling her eyes at the slightly pompous nature by which Lady Potter identified her brother, and turned back to the grate to see Charlus step inside. He held a pinch in front of him, and with an exaggerated gesture threw it in the logs. "Foyer, Potter Manor!" He called clearly, before disappearing in a gush of green flames. Lady Potter shook her head.

"Drama queen," she muttered, before stepping forward, Lily right in step with her. She took her own pinch of powder, and called out as well. "Foyer, Potter Manor!"

The green flames engulfed them, and Lily felt herself being whisked away to Potter Manor. Fortunately, her first real time using the Floo went rather well, and she didn't even stumble as she stepped out of the next fireplace.

Her eyes widened as she took in her surroundings. She knew the Potter family was wealthy, but she never knew it was this wealthy. She emerged in a large, round, white marble foyer that could've been confused for one of a muggle billionaire's home. Four white statues of various warrior cultures (she recognised a Samurai, an ancient Roman Centurion, and a Knight in armour, but couldn't identify the fourth) from the past stood sentinel next to her, one guarding each staircase, and two flanking what she presumed to be the main entrance to her left. To her surprise, the walls weren't decorated with magical portraits of ancestors, as she heard both Sirius and Marlene describe their own homes, but rather with paintings of various landscapes, and quite a few from recent history: a still painting from a muggle town under assault in one of the world wars, an animated painting of a castle under siege during the Dark Ages, a painting of an old and remote Japanese mountain village, and a painting of a ship with black sails and a black flag boarding another during the Golden Age of Piracy in the Bahamas.

The interior was also vast, and while the Potters busied themselves by cleaning off the ash magically and stowing their coats, Lily wished she had a dozen eyes so she could look everywhere. The house had a large living room, as she could see from the few open doors she saw, and a large ballroom with three chandeliers and a sitting room. Curiously, she saw both a larger and a smaller dining room right next to one another, and a small chunk missing from one of two fireplaces in the Foyer. The stairs mirrored on either side of the wall, curving up with low and wide steps until it hit a small straight balcony, which continued on the other side back along the wall before becoming stairs again to the next floor. She could count this being repeated three times before it seemed to hit the top floor.

"It's large, we know," Baron Potter said, as he stepped up to her and waved his wand over her, cleaning her of the ash. "But it's been in the family for as long as the Potter family has existed, a small house on a hill back when we first started calling ourselves Potters. It had been greatly renovated until it was similar to this, back when our family used to be larger. But alas, our great desire for privacy and consequential lacking of a great variety of guests, Pureblood Inbreeding, and the various Wizarding wars over the centuries have dwindled us down to just six members and a number of wards."

"We have smaller properties for when we desire a more family-suited setting: Fleamont's villa in the United States, a cottage in Godric's Hollow, where Fleamont will move into with Euphemia and Severus by the way, a small townhouse in Glasgow, and a few vacation homes in France, the Bahamas, and the Australian coast, to name a few. But Potter Manor's still our pride and joy, and we spend most of our time here."

Lily nodded, and kept looking around. "It's huge."

Baron Potter nodded. "Eight floors, if we include the attic, cellar and attached shelter underneath." He suddenly grew grim. "Speaking of which, the fourth and third floors are off-limits unless in an emergency, and even then be extremely careful what you touch, and come find us immediately in the large offices left of the western stairs on either floor. Nowhere else."

Lily stepped back, surprised by the sudden switch from warm, welcoming, and easy-going to firm, grim, and no-nonsense. "Oh… Of course, Baron Potter," she answered quickly. "But may I ask why?"

Lady Potter nodded, and answered in her husband's stead. "While we are a predominantly neutral family with firm leanings to the lighter factions, we've gotten our hands on quite the number of dark or cursed artefacts over the years. Things too valuable or useful to destroy but too risky just leaving it lying around, and too dark and dangerous for even us to have the Goblins store them in one of our vaults at Gringotts. Most of them are stored in heavily warded rooms on the top floor." At Lily's rapidly widening eyes and slight trembling in shock and fear at that fact Dorea quickly explained. "All the rooms they're stored in are heavily warded. And frankly, you shouldn't even be able to get in any of them. But on the off chance your curiosity got the better of you and you manage to unlock one and get in, we felt you were better off knowing the danger you might walk into."

Lily nodded, making a firm note never to stray even near that floor. "And the one below?"

"As you know, Harry was kidnapped two weeks ago. That kind of thing, in combination with… some of the Dark Lord's darker habits, was enough for us to make an unofficial declaration of war. We've decided to make Potter Manor our headquarters, and anything related to the war effort is to be conducted there."

Lily nodded. She could understand the need for secrecy with that. "Alright, stay clear of the rooms on the upper floors. Got it," she paused, then gestured to the damaged fireplace. "What's up with that?"

Baron Potter followed her arm, and his brows lifted at seeing the damage. "Ah. One moment." He waved his wand, and from the front door a handful of pieces of gravel flew in, which he caught in his free hand. He put them in the hole, and they roughly filled it up, before the Baron started waving his hand more delicately and mumbled softly. Lily watched with wide, amazed eyes as the gravel started morphing until it was all a part of the fireplace again, and matched the surrounding stone and paint perfectly. There wasn't even an outline from where the hole had been, the repair was that perfect.

"Sorry you spotted that," Baron Potter apologised. "Five months after the event, and I'm _still_ finding things to fix in here."

"What happened?" Lily asked with concern. From what he'd mentioned earlier about going against You-Know-Who, she knew the Potters weren't as well-liked as Alice had him portrayed to be. But for someone to cause that much damage in the Foyer itself?

"Shortly after we recalled Harry and his friends, they were ambushed by Death Eaters," Baron Potter explained. "And they were forced to activate their emergency Portkeys. But Death Eaters already had a hold of them, and when they activated and Portkeyed them away, the Death Eaters followed. They were all fine, no worries," he assured when Lily's eyes widened in dismay, "Dorea, my brother, and I took care of the Death Eaters, and you saw Harry and his friends alive and well yourself this school year. But their wellbeing came at the cost of the Foyer. And as you can see, repairs are still being done."

Lily let out a sigh of relief. He sure hadn't alluded to that story. Being captured by You-Know-Who's inner circle and escaping with only a scar on his forehead, sure. But not that he'd nearly been captured again. "Ok. Anything else I should know?"

"Yes," Lady Potter answered. "A basic layout: the Attic, which can be accessed from the central stairwell so no need to drift to the other rooms, holds the Owlery and a roof that can be converted to open and show the stars for any Astronomy-related tasks, or a romantic date of stargazing. Fourth floor holds the rooms warded with artefacts and objects not to be touched. Third floor houses the war-rooms, the Warding room, which is the room holding the stone powering all the wards protecting the Manor and grounds, and guest quarters in case our allies stay over or have need of them. Second floor is dedicated to the Library, the portraits room with a copy of the family tapestry, a small Potions Lab and an attached healing room in case you get injured, a Duelling Room, and a couple of offices, mine and Charlus' included. First floor is from now on dedicated to routinely occupied sleeping quarters, the west wing holds the rooms for the boys, the east has the Master Bedroom and the rooms for the girls, each with an attached bathroom. And lastly, Ground floor holds the kitchen, two dining rooms, living room, a sitting room, and the ball room, as well as a terrace to look out over the property, matched above it by balconies on each floor of the same kind. Cellar is mostly dedicated to storage, although Fleamont often brewed Potions there in his youth. Something about the thick walls of the cellar ensuring there's no atmospheric interference, or some such thing."

Lily nodded, trying to memorise as much as she could. But with how fast Lady Potter was talking, it was hard to remember it all. Finally, when Lady Potter stopped talking, she sheepishly asked: "Can you write that down for me?"

Now it was Baron Potter's turn to laugh and Lady Potter's turn to blush. "Right, sorry," she mumbled, and summoned a piece of parchment from the hall, as well as a quill, and started writing as it seemed to summon ink from somewhere inside it as she needed no ink bottle to dip the quill in. After a moment she handed it back to Lily, who gratefully accepted it and looked it over, before pocketing it to look at later.

"As we said, your room's on the first floor, the right wing, second to last door on the right," Lady Potter explained. "A name plate's on it as well to ensure you'll find it, and the others won't step in thinking it's their room in confusion. They haven't been around since everything's redecorated and moved around, you see."

"Something I helped them with," a new voice broke in. Lily turned around, and saw a second woman standing there. She was roughly the same age as the Potters, and had bright red hair not unlike her own, and bright blue eyes. She wore elegant robes, like Lady Potter, but hers were of a different cut and predominantly red in colour, with here and there a bit of black lining. They were also rather loose below her waist, and the skirt split in half halfway down her thigh, revealing quite a bit of stocking-covered leg as she strode forward.

"Lily Evans," Baron Potter introduced, "meet our family friend Seraphina Bones of House Bones." Lily chuckled at Dorea's muttering at how many proper titles he was leaving out. "Excellent broom flyer, great duelist and martial artist, the Great Alliance' best Ward Master, and overall a dirty-minded minx I didn't want you to meet quite so soon."

Lily frowned at Baron Potter in confusion, but Seraphina retorted before she could ask why he thought so. "Come now, Charlus. I distinctly recall you naming me a whole host of other complimentary things. Didn't you, Dorea?"

"Clearly," Lady Potter answered in the same teasing tone as Lily watched Baron Potter blush and tried to turn away.

"I was drunk," he defended himself. "And you were polyjuiced as my wife, damn it. Almost had a heart attack when you started shifting back mid-sex."

"Well, we all know that didn't last very long when I did join in," Dorea said in a sultry voice. Lily blushed, and looked away and covered her ears with her hands. She now knew _exactly_ why Baron Potter hadn't wanted her introduced to the woman quite this soon. And she quite agreed with that assessment. "Besides, you have to compliment her acting skills if you didn't notice the entire time."

"I was traumatised for life," Baron Potter said dramatically. "You two chained me to the wall with magic-restraining cuffs. I was mortified when you brought in everyone else."

"Well, I think it was the best orgy I ever had, since all of the Rascals and their partners joined in that honeymoon night. Even Arcturus and-"

"Underage girl in the room here!" Lily called loudly. "Please, wait until I'm elsewhere for your discussions of…" Lily trailed off, not sure what to call it. She didn't notice at all the three had stopped talking on their own as pain flashed across their own eyes at who Seraphina was about to mention, and they were, in fact, happy for the distraction Lily provided.

"Such a prude," Seraphina pouted. "Remind Charlus I need to be there when you're given _the talk_. I'd make it much more entertaining. Mind, I'd even give life examples of what and how-"

"I've had a _talk_ , thank you very much," Lily said loudly, blushing from the roots of her hair to her neck. Really, did this woman have no sense of decency or decorum?

"Not a _magical_ one," Seraphina countered with a wide smile. "And there's a lot more entertainment on the magical side as well, with all the… Excitement certain spells can bring. Trust me, I speak from experience."

"Enough, Seraphina," Baron Potter said, as Lily started to stammer and gape in addition to her blush, the woman's teasing becoming too much for her mind to process. "Stop traumatising her. She's only fifteen, and I doubt you came here just to wind her up."

"Quite," Seraphina, agreed and just like that the teasing tone was gone, replaced by a look of seriousness Lily hadn't expected the woman could handle. Lily took a few deep breaths to compose herself, before nodding.

"I came here because I'm done with that project you asked me to look into. The Blood Wards project."

Clearly it was a project they were all deeply invested in, for Baron Potter immediately brightened up. "You found texts on them?"

"Technically Richard did, years ago on his trip to South America, but the end result's the same," Seraphina answered, giving Lily a curious glance. "It's as we presumed: the ones desiring to be protected by them need only donate blood, which is added to an anchor, either the person's Magical core or a Ward-stone, and a Ward Master can use it to create several wards."

Lily nodded along, having read a treatise on creating Wards already for an Arithmancy project she wanted to do for class next term. "They're fuelled by the presence of the one being protected and their blood, right?"

Seraphina turned to her in pleasant surprise. "My my, intelligent _and_ beautiful in one package. No wonder Jamie falls so hard for you." Lily blushed as the teasing tone returned, but it was gone the moment the sentence ended. "Yes, though it often requires more than just a bit. And the ward's nature is quite simple yet intricate, too: the amount of blood donated stands proportional to how long the Wards need to be charged to return to full strength, the strength of the wards, how long the protected one can be absent before they need to return to charge the Wards, and the strength of the response should someone try to harm the protected one inside the wards.

There's a drawback, though. The wards only work if the one being protected is an underage wizard or witch, not an adult. As soon as they reach their age of majority, the wards will become useless. A younger relative of yours might be protected by them later, but for yourself they become as useful as muggle dice."

Baron Potter nodded. "We suspected as much. Still, that will suffice." He turned to Lily. "Young one, would you like to consent to donating blood to the Ward-stone, so we can add a Blood-Ward to the Manor? It'll provide more protections for you and any of your future children should they visit."

Lily knew she would likely agree, having heard the benefits. There were just too many benefits from being protected by Blood Wards. "Are there any drawbacks?"

"Just that you're willingly giving blood," Seraphina answered, "And that if you lose hold of it between getting it out of your body and applying it to the Ward-stone, it can get pretty bad for you. But aside from that, Blood-Wards have no drawbacks on their own."

Lily nodded. "Then, if possible, I'd like to… How do I put this?" She paused, flustered. Barely a ward of the family for an hour and she was already almost demanding a form of protection. Boy, this was going well…

"You'd like to power a Blood Ward?" Seraphina asked knowingly. "That's part of the reason I was asked to look into them: the wards at Potter Manor are strong, I frequently check them myself, but there are few wards stronger than those powered by Blood." Seraphina turned to the Potters. "Shall we?" She asked, gesturing to a door to the right, below the left stairwell. Lily nodded, and followed the three adults up the stairs. After several flights, they came to the top floor. Lily immediately saw why they called most of the rooms war rooms: the wall of one room was entirely dedicated to a map of the United Kingdom, with various names in different colours written down around various areas, like 'Croft Manor' in blue not too far from Cokeworth, ' _Lestrange_ Mansion' in blaring red and underlined somewhere in Southern Ireland, and 'Hogwarts' and 'Hogsmeade' in green at their respective locations in the Scottish Highlands. Nearby were also other, smaller maps of larger towns, as well as what she presumed were blueprints of some buildings. That was all she could see before someone inside closed the door. Another room was dedicated entirely to storing high-quality brooms and what she thought were flying carpets, and yet another was stocked from floor to ceiling along the walls and on various tables with muggle weapons, ranging from daggers and swords to shields and spears, from mere handguns to (surprisingly) many bazookas and what she realised were vehicles of war shrunken down to the size of small handbags, like tanks and war planes and zeppelins, comically hanging by their wings and barrels and wheels from small hooks on the wall.

And then they arrived at the first portrait of a person she'd seen in here, and they halted. Lily paused and squinted. The relatively young woman, barely a Hogwarts graduate, was depicted wearing a strange set of robes, which were a mix between the healer's robes similar to Madam Pomfrey, filled with pouches of healing potions and herbs, and a tougher version of the Auror robes Professor Clarke had shown them in her second year, with complete body padding and coverage, and a helmet locked to the side of her belt. She bore a surprising similarity to Baron Potter and Harry, with the same messy hair and toned body, and Harry's green eyes, though she had both laughter lines around her eyes, and a small smirk. The background behind her, though, wasn't as pretty: a small muggle church was burning, and the ground behind her was littered with corpses underneath a scorched, stormy sky.

"Hello, Sarah," Baron Potter said, suddenly sounding melancholy.

"Wotcher, Charlie," the woman said, her voice sounding quite melodic, though holding the same melancholy tone. "Out there saving the world again, big brother?"

"Like usual," Lady Potter said fondly, a sad smile on her face. "Allow me to introduce you to a Lily Jaina Evans, our new Ward."

The portrait turned her head to her, and Lily actually felt herself being scrutinised by some sort of magic. It passed quickly, though, and the smirk turned into a full-blown smile. "Ah, little Jamie's everlasting crush. I've heard a lot about you. He talks of you very day of summer, you know?"

"He does?" Lily asked, blushing with embarrassment. She knew he was head over heels in love with her, but to the extent she heard now? Oh, God…

"I'm more of his sounding board for romantic ideas, really." The woman in the portrait now identified as Sarah admitted with a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry if some of my… more public ideas embarrassed you. Things like that stunt with roses appearing in your path everywhere worked when I tried them, back in the day."

"That was in your seventh year, nineteen thirty-nine to nineteen forty, before the Grindelwald War really affected the UK," Seraphina said with a fond smile. "This is nineteen seventy-five. Entirely different times."

"I know, Phenie," she pouted, before smirking at Lily. "Still, nice to see the Redhead-blessing continues on," she goaded, before opening upward and inward.

"Fleamont and I broke it!" Baron Potter called after her, but the portrait had already disappeared. "Bitch," he muttered, before stepping in, and Lily and the others followed close behind.

Lily could immediately see this was the Warding Room. Instead of the predominantly pristine white surface on the walls off-set by brown, grey, and white decals, the room was entirely black. And not just the dull black of Hogwarts robes, but so pitch-black that it seemed to suck in all light. Well, it was originally black. But the walls were offset by sets of bright red runes, which illuminated the room. Dominating the centre of the room, sunken slightly into the floor and protected from nearly all sides by a railing aside from a gantry that was moving to it on its own, was a large roughly oval-shaped dark-red-and-black stone with a rough surface approximately twice her height, covered in glowing runes in a brighter shade of red that pulse every three seconds.

"The central Wardstone," Baron Potter explained to her. "Every Ward that protects the property is anchored to it and draws power from it. Muggle-Repellant, Selective Disillusionment against Muggles, Unplottable, General Shielding, Anti-Apparation, Anti-Portkey, the latter two only possible with permission from myself or my wife, Selective Floo, Anti-Dark-Mark, Anti-Obscurial… Name a ward, and we likely have it and it's controlled from here. There are dozens of smaller stones connected to it spread at the borders of our estate to give the magic solid borders, but this one controls it all."

Lily nodded. Both the stone and the room certainly looked impressive, and both pulsed so heavily with magic she could feel it from her spot in the doorway. "Alright, what do I have to do?"

"You just make a cut in your hand, and let the blood drip on the stone until I tell you to stop," Seraphina answered, before turning to Lady Potter. "I'll do the rest. Dorea, retrieve a Blood-Replenishing Potion or two, and fast-acting ones. Lily'll need to donate approximately three pints if she wants the best protection possible."

Lady Potter nodded, and quickly retreated to the second floor's Potions lab, returning in short order with two vials of said potion. Lily nodded, and stepped forward. "I'm ready."

Seraphina nodded. Instead of the ritual knife Lily expected, though, or a cutting spell from Seraphina's wand, the woman grabbed Lily's lower arm and raked it over the surface of the stone. Lily winced, as she felt the rough surface of the stone make multiple gashes across her arm. But, remembering what Seraphina had said, she kept her arm at least close to it, letting her arm bleed out over the surface. She had to admit she was a bit frightened to see her blood flowing quite rapidly out of the cuts on her palm and arm, about five or six cuts in total. But there was also a certain pull to it. Something that prevented her from actually pulling away, aside from the need to power the Blood protections. It was… It was kind of a nice feeling, actually. It warmed her, invigorated her, to be so close to the stone, and she actually leaned closer, to-

"Enough," Seraphina said sternly, and Lily was shaken from her daze and pulled away. Lady Dorea immediately waved her wand and incanted Episkey multiple times to heal the numerous cuts, before giving Lily the Potions. Lily drank it all reluctantly, knowing from experience with numerous violent Slytherins that the Potion tasted horrible. But as soon as she stepped back from the stone she felt the dizziness and numbness from the loss of blood she hadn't noticed before, and knew she'd better drink it. After a moment of hesitation, she downed it in one gulp. Still, she felt too dizzy to stand on her own and leaned against the doorpost.

"Should've warned you," Lady Potter apologised. "The magic the Stone gives off has an addictive allure, more so if you're bleeding from an open wound. Nothing harmful in and of itself, but it tends to dull one's senses, and with the rate you were losing blood it's very dangerous."

Lily nodded in acceptance, and looked to see Seraphina chanting in a language she didn't recognise, with Baron Potter standing nearby, simply casting at the stone to give it power. The time between the pulses of the stone and the chamber decreased with each word Seraphina chanted, until it was like a crowd of press photographers. Then, there was one final, extremely bright pulse, before it all ended, and the entire chamber briefly dimmed, before returning to the previous one-every-three-seconds pulse.

"There." Seraphina said proudly. "One Aztec Blood Ward. Congratulations, Lily. You're now subject to a Blood Ward. As long as you live at Potter Manor every two weeks over the summer holidays, you'll be protected as well as can be."

Lily nodded, trying to stand upright on her own again, only to overbalance and fall to the other side. Lady Potter caught her, though, and held her upright long enough that Lily could balance herself and stand on her own.

"Thank you," Lily breathed.

"Not a problem, dearest," Seraphina reassured in a seductive voice, making Lily blush and look away again. Bloody hell, did that woman try to rile her up just for the hell of it?

"Come dear," Lady Potter said. "The blood loss left you a bit peaky. Let's get you some rest. We'll go shopping for clothes, your other stuff, and the Yule ball tomorrow."

"Yule ball?" Lily asked, surprised. What-

"What, did Dorea forget to tell you?" Seraphina teased. "It's a Potter tradition to host a large dinner ball for the Rascals, the other original members, and the heads of the important alliance families every summer solstice, in remembrance of the date Charlus and Arcturus arranged they got their Baronies, and Yule, to celebrate the foundation of the Great Alliance. And as a Ward of house Potter, your attendance is required at both."

 _Oh, God. A ball. And I don't even know how to dance. Or any real etiquette rules. Or who will be_ invited. _Or-_

"Maybe I should come along for shopping tomorrow, so you have a properly revealing dress for said ball, eh?" Seraphina grinned. Lily's eyes widened in mortification. Oh god. If that minx went along with-

Fortunately, Lady Potter had mercy on her. "No, Seraphina. This weekend is meant so Charlus and I can get properly acquainted with Lily. That will NOT be spoiled by your over sexualised comments. Am I clear?"

"Awww, but-"

"No."

* * *

Charlus stared after them, as the ladies retreated down to the parlour. He sighed. Oh, how he wished to be so innocent as Lily was in the face of Seraphina. But alas. With a Bones Bachelor party, the Grindelwald war, and the loss of his sister during it, one couldn't help but be a realist.

"You know you have to tell them eventually, right?" A voice said behind him. He didn't turn around, knowing who was addressing him.

"I know." Charlus sighed again. He knew he had to. He'd only told James and Sirius the bare basics, and Harry and the others nothing at all. He wanted to spare them from that. The pain knowing they could've had another aunt, but had been robbed of the chance to ever meet her.

"But now more than ever," Sarah pressed. "When he was put away he got a thirty year sentence in the High-Security wing of Nurmengard, as I recall. A sentence that ended last summer."

"He'll be free to rally the Grim Reapers," Charlus realised, fear gripping his heart. He'd beaten the man before, numerous times even. But it had cost him or others something each time. And with what he had to lose now…

"They must know the truth," Sarah insisted. "Even at the cost of their innocence. I, more than anyone else, know what that man is capable of. If nothing else, it'll be easier to get them to be more violent in their methods. To get them past simple disarming hexes and stunners," Sarah sighed. "A shame that lesson cost me my life. It didn't stop him."

"It shouldn't have had to," Charlus retorted, tears in his eyes. He didn't want himself, or any of the others, to lose anyone else to that man again. He didn't want to comfort another Potter as they succumbed to their wounds in his arms. "You shouldn't have had to use anything more against your husband."

"They're not ready," Charlus said, panicking slightly. Their innocence needed to be protected from the horrors of war, even though Harry was quite mature and aware of them already. "If I tell them they'll hate me. They need to know more of history, or they'll die. Like you." He let out a lout breath, calming himself with the help of Occlumency. "They're not ready."

"No one's ever ready," his sister's portrait retorted. "We never get to choose our own time, either to reveal sensitive information or to embrace one's own death. Death is what gives life meaning, Charlie. To know one's days are numbered, their time short. It drives one to do things they would normally be afraid to do." He finally turned around, and found her wearing a sad smile. "Like how my death finally made you Rascals work together like I knew you could."

He gave his own sad smile in turn, shaking his head. "Since when did you get so wise?"

His sister snorted, and his sad smile grew into a genuine one. "We always knew us Potter siblings had an odd dynamic: you, the strong and brave one incapable of making hard decisions until well after my death. Fleamont, the mad tinkerer with Potions with a sense of humour that perfectly fit Phenie. And me, the youngest wise chick that in spite of all her wisdom maintained a sense of innocence and naïveté in her medical tent until her death."

"Then why did I never hear such wisdom coming from you before, sis?" He asked pointedly, one eyebrow raised.

"Because you never bothered to listen," she chastised, though he could see there was genuine mirth in her eyes. By Merlin, he missed her reassuring presence. "Then again, few men did."

He sighed. She had a point. With the year difference between them being three years, he'd ignored her far more than he should've.

"I'm sorry, Sarah," he whispered, finally letting the tears flow.

"Me too, big brother," she quietly whispered back. "Me too."

* * *

(1) = 'go to hell' in Russian, rough translation courtesy of Google translate

 **Up Next: finishing the Potions tutoring with Snape, the Christmas Ball, Harry meets the parents, Neville has a tense confrontation with Bellatrix, and another memory for the collection**

 **Two requests I'd like the input for readers on:**

 **One, Marauders names for the Ministry Six. I'm stuck, even after the story began nearly a year ago and I thought of the idea, and I'd like your input and ideas. A reminder of their forms and notable characteristics:**

 **Harry: Thestral, eyes as green as in human form, lightning-bolt scar remains  
** **Hermione: Phoenix, mostly fire-orange  
** **Ron: Dog, Jack Russel Terrier, mostly white fur except for russet fur around the head and a black snout  
** **Ginny: Horse, red-maned  
** **Neville: Wolf, after Riddle Manor assault three claw scars across the right side of the face in both forms  
** **Luna: Hare, white fur and dirty patches around the head to mimic hair**

 **And two: Actors portraying physical appearances of characters. I'm putting things open to votes. The Ministry Six remain the same, as do McGonagall, Dumbledore, and Tom Riddle/Voldemort (both twisted bald version, even if it could use a touch-up on details like red eyes and such and young charismatic version), but all others are up for suggestion and vote.**

 **Adios  
**

 **Lucian Valerious**


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